


Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

by sunalso



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Bloodplay, Claiming Bites, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:05:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 34
Words: 134,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6261235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starts post NFA in 2004 and loops back to 1997 and a very AU Season 2.  Having fallen into a deep depression following the destruction of her entire world, Buffy attempts to take her own life. In a desperate measure to save her, she is sent into the past. Only she doesn't go back entirely alone. Faced with becoming a ghost in her own past can Buffy figure out how to live again? And what's with that echo that traveled with her?</p><p>Starts out dark but doesn't stay that way. </p><p> This story is only archived at EF and AO3.</p><p>Trigger Warning: Self-harm and Suicide are heavy themes in this story.</p><p>Beta read by Gort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hellmouth

As desperation takes hold

             -Joy Division, “Love Will Tear Us Apart”

 ****

This was it. Buffy pulled the cheap rental car over to the shoulder. The road dropped off into nothingness ahead. Leaving the headlights on, she put the keys on the dash, grabbed her stake and got out. The door closing made a loud thump that echoed down through the chasm of what had once been Sunnydale. A few plants grew stubbornly along the edge of the crater, a couple even had flowers. While walking away from the car, Buffy reached down to scoop up a fist sized rock, hefted it a few times, then threw it with all her might out into the darkness. She waited, listened, but never heard it hit. Just the wind making lazy, low whistling noises.  

 

 _Perfect_ , she thought, _time to finish this._

 

She walked right up to the edge and looked down. It wasn’t a sheer cliff face like she’d hoped. There were a successive series of ledges, and even with a running start she wouldn’t be able to clear them. It made her angry that the hellmouth was still conspiring against her.  Maybe it wouldn’t matter much. She’d be just as dead on the roadside next to the damn car, but then why come all this way? She wanted to be down there, whatever was left of her mixing with whatever was left of him. It was supposed to be symbolic, that she had died here that day as well. It was so obvious to her week after week that she had. It wasn’t her fault that no one else seemed to know it. _And, oh god, whose fault is that, Buffy? You let the one other person that did get you die here, alone._ She was fixing things. She was going to make them right again. Nobody truly needed her anymore. It would be no biggie if she was gone, not with all those girls to carry on in her place. The pain could end. She needed it to end.

 

When Buffy had first been dragged out of heaven she’d felt cut off from everything, unable to feel. Now she felt too much, endless time dragging across her like shards of glass. Every morning she woke up and her heart was cut out. No end, never an end. _Is this how you felt when I was gone?_ Unlike her, at least he’d been needed. He had promised her to take care of Dawn, and he’d stuck to it. In her world everyone had moved on, had new loves and exciting futures to look forward to, everyone except her. Buffy felt like an extra appendage, a sixth finger that everyone acted like they were still glad to have around but didn’t quite know what to do with. Dawn was at school and called her, well, never. She would answer if Buffy did, and talk for about five minutes before rushing off. Buffy knew she was an unwelcome reminder to her sister of bad times and feelings. It was difficult to blame Dawn for wanting some space.

 

Willow was off doing her own thing, the best friend badge having been discarded a long time ago if Buffy was being truthful. Xander had a new not-quite-yet girlfriend and was busy coordinating the Slayers both night and day. She didn’t even know where Giles was or what he was doing. Ditto for Angel. Not one of her friends had ever sat down with her in the aftermath, asked her how she felt. In the early days when she cried, they had said they missed their home too. No one had said his name. Except her, curled around a pillow at night, sobbing his name into it over and over. _Spike, Spike, Spike, Spike._

 

Buffy wiped the tears from her cheeks. She’d been slowly walking along the crater rim, looking for the right place. `

 

_Ah, there it was._

 

A twisted metal girder stuck out from the ledge below her. It appeared lodged into the crater wall, and hung out far enough into the blackness that she knew the darkness would be able to swallow her whole. She dropped the six feet down to the ledge. As she landed she heard the sound of car tires screeching to a halt. Buffy ran, then was forced to drop to her hand and knees in order to crawl out onto the narrow girder. Above her she heard boots crunching on gravel.

 

“Buffy?” A voice was calling. She tried to hurry, but the girder shifted under her weight and creaked loudly.

 

“Buffy!” She looked back, meeting Angel’s horror stricken eyes as he took in where she was and what she was doing.  “What the hell is going on Buffy? Stop, please.” He leapt down to the lower ledge and grabbed the sides of the girder to steady it. She turned her back to him and continued crawling to the end. Then she firmly planted her feet and stood, looking down into the vastness before her. There was no fear. Angel was still blathering on behind her, something about love, and duty, and the rest of the bullshit she was tired of. Slowly she turned to face him.

 

“Go away, Angel,” she said flatly. “I don’t want or need you to be here.” He looked like he’d been slapped.

 

“Please Buffy, I love you, I can’t watch you do this. I didn’t believe Xander when he called, saying you might be here, be thinking about . . .. Please. I have something to tell you.” Still crouched over, holding onto the girder, he tentatively lifted one hand towards her.

 

“The last time I did this,” she continued in a monotone, “it was to save the world, and my sister. It was a sacrifice. Now it’s for me. This death- it's my gift. You can’t watch? Then you’d better close your eyes.”  She held her arms out to the side, and Angel could see the stake clasped in her right hand.

 

“Buffy, No! Wait!”

 

She tilted her head back, _I love you_ , she thought, and this time there was no one to tell her no. Her hand whipped up with the stake and plunged it into her chest, making the pain festering in her heart real. The darkness reached for her, and she tumbled down into its embrace.

 

****

 

Angel watched her fall, helpless to stop it. He heard a sickening thud below him. He jumped down to the next ledge, and then the next. The stump of a drainage pipe had cut her fall short. Reaching her body, he searched for any signs of life. At her neck he found a faint, thready pulse, and he could see her chest rise and fall in little hitching breaths.

 

“Buffy?” She didn’t stir. Carefully he gathered her into his arms. The scrape of broken bones against each other made him cringe. As grotesque as it appeared, he knew the stake had to remain in her chest until it could be removed in surgery.  Blood dripped steadily from a cut on her back, oozed from a dozen other places, and ran in a stream from between her lips. Angel fought his demon for control, the remembered taste of her heavy on his tongue.  He bit his own lip to try and drown out the scent.

 

It seemed to take years for him to climb back up to the cars. She stopped breathing once, and he’d shaken her in panic until she’d started up again. Now every labored breath she took was accompanied by a horrible rasping noise from inside her.

 

The sports car Angel had followed her in would be faster, but it was only a two seater. He left it parked haphazardly in the road and instead laid her across the backseat of the rental car she’d driven from LA. The keys were sitting on the dash, and he wondered who the hell she thought was going to return the rental. The pitiful engine protested as Angel slammed his foot on the gas and spun the wheel, heading away from the gaping maw that had been Sunnydale.


	2. Death

And I swear that I don't have a gun

             -Nirvana, “Come as You Are”

****

 

It was a while before Buffy knew she was only mostly dead. _Stupid Slayer strength_. She knew she was still among the kind-of living because if she was in heaven, it wouldn’t hurt like this, and if she was in hell, the pain would be of the much more active sort. She tried to sit up, only to find her hands tied down and something jammed down her throat. She started to panic and thrash.

 

“Wow, okay there, calm down, you’re in the hospital,” said a strange female voice. _Stupid Angel_ , Buffy thought with a mental pout. _And Stupid Buffy, you apparently managed to screw up dying. Again._ The stranger’s voice was still speaking, but not to her. “Doctor, we need to sedate her. I can’t have her pulling the ET Tube out, and the puncture wound to her chest is already soaking through the dressing.” There was a little flurry of activity, and then the stranger said “Don’t worry. You’re at Cedars-Sinai medical center in Los Angeles, in Intensive Care. You’re safe. You’re getting medicine for pain, and I’m going to start another IV drug to help you sleep. Just relax and let it work. It’ll be okay.”

 

It wasn’t okay.

 

She was dreaming, constantly. Not Slayer dreams, no calls to action. Just scenes from her life, all strung together like pearls. At first they’d been sweet: Memories of skating lessons and trips to the ice cream parlor. Her with her Mom and Dad and sister. Baby Dawn sitting in her highchair, trying to learn her name- _Brufy, Brufy, Brufy_! Sweet little eyes all lit up and smiling with a grin that just had the top two teeth.

 

And then those happy images were gone, and the pearls turned black. Merrick dying, Buffy dying under the Master’s thrall, Angelus, Jenny’s grave, Tara’s grave, her grave, dirt in her mouth, Angel with a sword through him, Mom on the couch not moving, Willow with black eyes, Xander with one eye, Faith with a knife in her stomach. Over and over the same images flickered past. Then she was standing in a cave, the light almost unbearable. Spike. Buffy watched herself intertwine her fingers with his. _I love you. No you don’t._ The fire against her palm. He was burning, for her, for everyone. _I love you. No you don’t._ She couldn’t change it. Again and again and again. _I love you. No you don’t._  She was screaming and screaming and no one could hear her.

 

Then blackness.

 

****

 

The next time she was aware, she heard voices. _Giles?_

 

And Angel, angry. “We’re not moving her.”

 

“Angel,” Giles sounded weary, like they’d been having this same argument for a while. “With her Slayer healing the staff will soon become suspicious here. You have access to Wolfram & Hart’s vast resources, now might be an excellent time to utilize them.”

 

“No!” It was almost a shout. “There’s stuff going on there you know nothing about. It wouldn’t be good for her. She’s staying here.” There were heavy footfalls as the vampire got up and started pacing. “What the hell is wrong with you, Giles? I trusted you to care for her because I can’t be there, and she ends up doing a goddamned swan dive into what used to be a hellmouth?”

 

Giles sighed, sounding exasperated. “No one knew she was this bad. We don’t even know why. I’ve been looking through the Watcher Diaries and trying to figure it out.”

 

“You’re wrong, about no one having a clue.” That was Xander, sounding defeated. “I might have known.”

 

“Please continue, anything will help us right now.” Buffy could imagine Giles taking his glasses off to clean them.

 

“Well,” Xander sighed. “Remember about a month ago during that sky diving exercise when Buffy’s parachute and backup completely malfunctioned?”

 

“What?” Angel gasped.

 

“Yeah, the last girl out of the plane was able to grab Buffy midflight and land both of them safely. Everyone was okay in the end. Guess she didn’t call you about that, Angel.” There was a noise, like Angel had shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Anyway,” Xander continued. “I checked her pack afterwards, to see what went wrong. The cords to release the ‘chutes had been cut.”

 

_Damn skippy they’d been cut_ , thought Buffy.

 

Xander went on, resigned. “I’ve been thinking that someone tried to kill her. For the last three weeks I’ve been track down leads with no luck. Now I guess my number one suspect is lying in the bed over there. And-” W _as that a sob?_ “And I don’t know what to do.”

 

“I’m afraid I am at my wits’ end as well,” said Giles.

 

“I might have an idea.” Angel again, speaking slowly. “We know she’s on borrowed time right now, so we’ll have to act fast.”

 

“Are you sure she won’t make it, Slayer healing and everything?” asked Xander, tears still coloring his voice.

 

“That’s all that’s keeping her even this…approximation of alive,” replied Angel. “But even it, and the best antibiotics, won’t keep the blood infection she’s got from raging out of control for much longer. She’s going to leave us soon.”

 

_Go me! Good to know I didn’t completely botch things_ , Buffy thought wryly. _Why can’t they just leave me alone to die in peace?_

 

“Well, let’s hear this plan then, Angel,” said Giles.

 

“You’re not going to like it. We can’t keep her alive much longer here, but we can send her mind back to an earlier time. We lose her, but she’s still living.”

 

“Wait,” Xander piped up. “Are you talking time travel? Because time travel sounds like a bad idea. If she changes one thing about the events leading up to her trying to fulfill her death wish, it might not happen, and then we’ve created a ginormous paradox and time and space cease to exist. Butterfly wings and all that stuff.”

 

Angel sighed. “That’s an antiquated idea. It’s not like we’re going to put her in a DeLorean. Her, for the lack of a better term, ‘Buffy-ness’- will be assisted back through time to her body at a previous point in her history. The first new decision she makes will branch her off into a different universe. We don’t quit existing, or suddenly find ourselves in a vastly different situation. I have an artifact good for a single, one-way trip. We just need a powerful witch to do the assisting part.”

 

“Willow will be here tomorrow,” said Giles. Buffy imagined him polishing his glasses again. “But how do we know if this will work, or if it does?”

 

_Woah, wait!_ Buffy frantically tried to get their attention but her fingertips barely twitched. _Guys, guys, no don’t do this to me! Don’t decide my fate AGAIN without asking me! Just let me go. Guys!_

 

Dark again.

 

****

 

Buffy woke, unable to open her eyes. Someone was holding her hand, singing softly.

 

“Earth my body, water my blood, air my breath and fire my spirit -”

 

_Fire my spirit, oh god, the cave. Not again. Hands intertwined, burning, burning, burning._

 

“Buffy?” _Willow?_ “Buffy it’s ok, I’m here. It’s Willow. I know you can hear me.” Buffy felt a tear slipping down her cheek. “I know you hurt. I can feel it, and the worst pain isn’t even in your body. We’re going to make it better.” _No!_ “We’re giving you a second chance, you don’t have to do the same things over again. We’ll all be okay here. We love you. Let us do this for you, because we’re stupid, and sorry.” _Let me go!_  

 

The bed dipped as Willow sat next to her. She leaned in very close to Buffy’s ear. “We talked and decided to put you right before you start college, I told them it was your best chance at changing things for the better. Make sure you talk me into being your roommate right away.” She dropped her voice even lower. “I think I know some of why you did this, and why felt you couldn’t reach out to us. I’m sorry Buffy. He’ll…” _Say his name, damn it!_ “Spike will still be alive, or still undead, I guess. You can make it right. Anyway.”  She sat back. “Say hi to Tara for me, and buy her a bulletproof vest or something. I’m counting on you. And that’s good-bye from me.” She kissed her friend’s hand and left.

 

Buffy felt too exhausted for this. She didn’t want to go back and mess with cosmic destiny. She wanted to rest. No one understood that. Rest, freedom. No more pain.

 

Xander sat beside her and told her how wonderful she was, and how sorry he was to have not seen her pain. Buffy forgave him, even if he didn’t know it. “Say hi to Anya for me.” Great, she was a time traveling messaging service now. He stayed a little longer, reminiscing about earlier, happier times. She was grateful to hear him laugh.

 

Giles sat by her bedside for a long time but didn’t say anything. She heard him stand up, and then his shoes on the tiles as he started to leave. He paused, then came back to whisper in her ear. “I’m sorry my dear girl. I failed you.” He kissed her forehead, then left. Buffy could forgive him nearly everything, but not quite all. He should have known better.  

 

She could hear Willow’s voice again, but she was talking to someone else on a phone. The witch was reassuring whoever it was that it was not their fault that they hadn’t called back earlier, and that there was no way they could have known what was happening.  “Here she is,” Willow said from close by, and the cell phone was pressed up to Buffy’s ear. “Sis,” _Dawn!_ “I’m so sorry I’m not there, that I haven’t been there for you.” _Don’t blame yourself Dawn!_ “I love you Buffy. I won’t even be there, where, or I guess when, you’re going to go. Don’t forget me. Please. Make Mom go to the doctor’s right away.” _Mom!_ “Say hi to Spike for me.” _Will do!_ “I love you, love you, love you!” _Love you too Dawny._  Buffy could hear Willow saying goodbye to Dawn, then the cell phone snapping shut.

 

Angel came in and stood beside her. He ran his fingers over her face and through her hair. It was annoying and she couldn’t tell him to stop. She really didn’t want to be petted. Finally, he sighed. “I was supposed to take care of you. Just me. I was meant to be your angel, for both now and always.” He sighed. “Everything’s gotten so messed up.” _That’s the truth._ “I just want you to know that the body you’re leaving here; we’ll do what you wanted. We’ll spread the ashes at Sunnydale. Now go, and live.” He kissed her tenderly on the cheek. “I love you Buffy.” _Wonderful._

 

The room filled up with sound as the others filed back in. Something was placed on her stomach. It cold, heavy, and uncomfortable. A crystal ball, maybe. The nurse must have given her an extra dose of the good painkillers before the ceremony got started, because Buffy felt herself floating in and out of consciousness. She had impressions of candles and incense, lots of chanting, and then she was somewhere and some-when else. This must be the time stream. Willow was there with her.  Only it wasn’t Willow’s body, just _her_ , whatever it was that made her uniquely Willow. That essence tugged at Buffy, and they set off together through a dizzying amount of glittery nothingness and flashing lights.

 

****

 

Buffy was dead. Xander, Giles, and Angel stared at the rapidly cooling corpse of their friend. Her eyes were open, but glazed over. Willow continued to be locked in her meditative state, hopefully guiding the Slayer to a new beginning.

 

Buffy was dead. She didn’t see the platinum blond vampire that came barreling into the hospital room, screaming and clutching a plastic bag labeled “medical waste” that contained the stake the Slayer had plunged into her own chest. Angel had taken it back to his office, a fetish for his guilt, but it had ended up in other hands. A savage punch from the blond laid him out.

 

Buffy was dead. She didn’t feel Spike climbing onto the bed, shaking her still form. She didn’t hear him as he screamed her name again and again. She didn’t see him, sobbing, as he ripped the blunted stake coated in her heart’s blood from its bag, and rammed it home into his own chest.

 

Buffy was dead.


	3. I Did a Stupid Thing

Do you wanna make it sweat

             -Wendy O. Williams, “Bump N Grind”

****

 

There it was.

 

The moment that had drawn her like a moth to a flame.

 

She had felt Willow trying to steer her somewhere else, but she’d refused and had tried to pull the witch towards the when that she knew was meant for her. Then Willow had been gone and Buffy was free to do as she wished. It was a relief. She was so tired of others trying to decide her life and death for her. This moment blazed like the sun, calling to her. It felt so right.

 

Flickering around the edges of her awareness she could sense something else, or someone else, in the time stream with her.   _Who…?_ It was like an echo of somebody…somebody that she needed.  Desperately. Despite the siren call of the of the moment before her, she stopped. In the infinite, glittering, vastness that was her surroundings, she reached out with all that she was, and was met with the same from the echo. Their edges intertwined and she found herself moving again towards where and when she knew she had to be. Only now she wasn’t alone. One more instant and she’d know the echo, it was so familiar-

 

The moment crashed into her.

 

Down she was pulled, flying apart and coming together at the same time. The second she exited from the time stream into reality, it felt like a rubber band snapping. Everything was live and in living color. Flashing lights assaulted her eyes while raucous music blared from speakers loud enough that she could feel the bass line pulsing in her chest. The air smelled of coffee, stale sweat and spilt beer. Her butt was going numb on the seat of a hard wooden chair. She was looking down at a French book in The Bronze.  The intricacies of the time stream were already fading away to a barely remembered haze, overwritten by the overwhelming immediacy of now.

 

Willow was sitting across from Buffy with her long red hair hanging loose down her back. She looked startlingly young.

 

“No, but you said that: ‘The cow should touch me from Thursday.’” Willow gave her friend a long suffering look.  

 

 _Oh God, oh God, oh God, - No!_ Buffy really, really, _really_ , didn’t want to repeat high school. The first time around had been bad enough. Going through it again- but wait, she remembered this.

 

_What happens on Saturday?_

_I kill you._  

 

“Uh, um, er-” Buffy stammered. Willow had moved on to looking frustrated.

 

“And you said it wrong,” Willow elaborated in her best impatient teacher voice.

 

“Ugh.” Buffy dropped her head onto the table. Any second now she’d blink and be back in the hospital with the tubes, a shattered thing tied to the bed. She couldn’t be here, in this techno- colored lucid dream. Panic started to build in her mind. _This can’t be real, I can’t be here, nonononononono._

 

Then she felt him. Sparks exploded like fireworks over her skin. She froze, not wanting to turn and stare. She didn’t remember knowing that he’d been there watching, but her Slayer senses hadn’t been as developed back then. Only now was then, or then was now, or…boy howdy this was confusing. So her ability to fully utilize her gifts had to be tied to whatever part of her had traveled back to this time. Nice! No waiting period for her body to catch up to her mind was a plus.

 

He must be standing close, was probably testing her. The tingles were telling her _vampire_ , a little frisson of danger, but mostly they were screaming _Spike_ at her, a cool, scintillating wave going from the top of her head and the tips of her toes right to her-

 

“You’re just not focused. It’s Angel missage.” Willow frowned when Buffy snorted at her words. She was saved from making a reply by Xander sauntering over to the table. A young, happy Xander with both eyes intact. _This was so confusing, and weird, and maybe a little wonderful._

 

“Guys! I’m all alone out there! Somebody has to dance with me.”  Xander beckoned with both hands to them.

 

“Well, we were studying,“ protested Willow.

 

“Come on, Willow,” Buffy said, grabbing the redhead’s hand. “We can study later, no stalling.” She gave Xander a goofy grin that he returned without hesitation.   

 

They moved onto the packed dancefloor. The song sounded incredibly late 90s to Buffy’s ears, but being with the 1997 versions of her friends without all the baggage from the last few years was magical. Maybe, just maybe, the terrible events that happened to make up that baggage weren’t set in stone. Things could be much better for them than what was in her memory. She smiled to herself, closing her eyes. Buffy could still feel Spike circling her, watching her, studying her.  Whatever schoolgirl dance moves she’d made the first time around were long forgotten so instead she tossed out a few things she’d learned from Faith- she couldn’t resist putting on a bit of a show.

 

She felt Spike draw nearer to the dancefloor. Buffy opened her eyes to see Xander looking at her, his face a little flustered. _Oh yeah_ , she thought. _I’d forgotten about all that_. She’d talk to Xander about friendship and boundaries later, right now it was time to make things different.

 

“Gotta pee,” she said to her friends, and darted towards the bathrooms. Spike had an alarmed look on his face and moved aside to let her by. She waited till she was half a step past him, then spun and grabbed his wrist. Electricity shot up her arm where her fingers were wrapped around him.

 

“Let's dance,” she said, looking up into startled blue eyes. She put a little slayer strength into her grip, letting him know he didn’t have a choice. Buffy pulled him to a corner of the floor away from her friends.  She let go of his wrist and ran both hands up the lapels of his coat to settle on his shoulders. For a moment she thought that he was just going to stand there but then his arms snaked around her, one settling on her upper back, the other on her waist. He pulled her against him and began moving to the music. Instinctively she molded her body to his, hooking her left arm around his neck.

 

She couldn’t believe what she was doing. This was Spike, but not her Spike. God, she’d missed him. This wasn’t him. Buffy knew he’d come to the Bronze to scope The Slayer out; to see what he was up against. Well, she was going to give him a whole lot more than he’d bargained for.

 

It was hot in the club, the press of bodies making the air swelter. He was staring into her face, head slightly cocked to the side as if she was a puzzle he couldn’t even begin to figure out how to solve. Sweat was beading right above her upper lip and with his face barely inches from hers she flicked her tongue and ran it slowly over her skin, making sure she got every last drop. The move wasn’t lost on Spike and her breath hitched as his mouth formed into its familiar smirk, his tongue pressing up behind his teeth.  Lust stabbed through her- hot and sweet and sticky.

 

Keeping her eyes on his mouth she brought her free hand up as she tilted her head to the left. She brushed the sweat-damped strands of her hair away from her neck, then drew one fingernail down the exposed skin.  She nearly hummed with satisfaction as gold warred with blue in his eyes and his lips clamped closed as he fought his fangs. He could do it, one deep bite and her life would pour right down his throat. God, she wanted him to do it. Bite her, drink her, kill her. Right here on the dancefloor of The Bronze while their bodies throbbed together to the thumping of the bass. 

 

Spike leaned forward, his mouth lingering millimeters from the spot where her pulse was pounding.

 

**

 

“Know me, luv?” he asked, raising his lips to her ear and away from temptation. All that Slayer blood, flowing so fiercely through the rivers of her veins. It was sensory overload for the vampire. The little girl slayer he’d expected to find apparently didn’t exist, because while the woman wrapped around him may have been young, there was nothing innocent in the way her body was moving against his. Her pupils were large, her lips swollen, and her breaths panting. She smelled of sunshine, power, and arousal. Bloody hell if the little minx wasn’t all excited. His hand slipped from her waist to cup her backside. She moaned, arching her back and pushing her ass harder against his palm. His already tight jeans became downright uncomfortable.

 

The tip of her little pink tongue poked out from between her plump lips as she leaned up towards his ear. “You’re the Big Bad. Spike. William the Bloody. Slayer of Slayers.”  Her breath was hot against him. Her cheek brushed his. She didn’t lean back and he used the opportunity to slip a leg between hers.  A mew escaped her throat as she brought her leg up to wrap around his waist, leaving her riding his thigh.

 

“You have me at a disadvantage then, Slayer.” It came out as a low rumble. Her hand was doing an exploration down his chest. She grew bolder, her fingers skimming down his stomach. When she reached his jeans she hooked one knuckle into a belt loop and gave it a little yank. He could feel her smile against his cheek as he actually growled. He used the hand on her ass to push her hard into him as he ground his erection against her hot core. Spike knew he’d come to find the Slayer for a reason, but he’d ceased to think about much of anything besides dragging her into the alley, or a bathroom stall, or against the nearest wall and plunging his aching cock inside her. Somehow the situation had changed and was now completely under her control. This maddening woman was playing him like a fiddle. He needed to flee. He needed her to never stop moving her hips like that.

 

**

 

Both vampire and Slayer were too busy to notice Xander and Willow staring slack-jawed at them as they gyrated together.  The two friends were standing beside the table with the forgotten French books.

 

“Why’s Buffy molesting Billy Idol?” Xander whispered to Willow.

 

“Wow, uh, that’s a lot of bumping and grinding.” Willow felt embarrassed. She hadn’t known her friend was capable of dancing quite like that. “I thought we were going to be studying French. Not, uh, doing, uh, that.” Her hands fluttered helplessly.

 

“Feeling a little weird here.” Xander sat down hard but didn’t take his eyes off Buffy and her mystery man. Buffy had tossed her head back, and the man was pressing his face into the hollow of her throat. Xander was pretty sure that was not a natural hair color, and since when did Buffy like the bad boy type? This guy was wearing leather, and probably owned a motorcycle.

 

**

 

On the dancefloor Buffy was intoxicated by being so close to everything she’d lost. It wasn’t like she didn’t know all he truly wanted to do was rip her throat out and have himself a real good day. Well, maybe that wasn’t all. She bucked her hips extra hard up against the bulge in his jeans, making him snarl and nip at her neck.

 

Since he didn’t seem about to off her, Buffy knew she needed to go. This wasn’t to be her moment after all. With how things were going, it wouldn’t be much longer before her hormones took over and not only would she be unable to leave, she’d probably toss Spike onto the nearest table and screw him senseless.

 

She needed a little brainpower to figure out this instant replay situation she’d found herself in, and her mind was not so much with the functioning right now. Her hand found Spike's, lifting it up and intertwining their fingers. With her other hand she grabbed his chin and turned his head to the side. She ran her tongue up the side of his neck and bit his earlobe. Before Spike had a chance to react, besides a gasp of pain, she whispered into his ear: “I’m Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. And you’re going to kill me on Saturday.” Smiling at his stunned look, Buffy stepped back and pulled his duster forward to cover the evidence of his arousal. Then she turned and hurried towards her friends, who were just standing there, staring at her. Oh great, she was going to have some explaining to do.

 

Buffy gathered up her purse and books. “Hey, ready to go guys?” Neither Xander nor Willow would meet her eyes, but they did grab their stuff and follow her outside. Buffy didn’t look back, didn’t want to know if Spike was still standing there stunned, or if he’d left, or if he was moving towards her. If she turned and saw him, she’d never be able to leave, and since she’d made up her mind to go, she had to keep walking.  

 

Just as they stepped outside the door to The Bronze, Buffy heard a scream coming from her left, down an alley. Slayer instincts took over. She dropped her purse and textbooks and ran. Some not-too-bright vamp was trying to make a meal out of a girl right under a streetlamp.

Grabbing the back of his filthy shirt, she tossed him up against the nearest wall.

 

“Xander, stake- in my purse,” Buffy yelled over her shoulder. The vamp was already up and moving.

 

“Slayer,” it drawled, circling around her. Oh yeah, she remembered this. Her senses told her there was only the demon in front of her, no Spike waiting in the shadows this time.

 

“Slayee,” she chirped. Then Xander was there putting the stake in her hand and the vamp was dust. Buffy waited a moment, in case she’d been wrong, but Spike didn’t show. So she turned and silently headed back to her friends.

 

No one said anything as they walked. Buffy marveled at seeing Sunnydale whole and intact. The lights, the people, and the soft background feel of the hellmouth percolating below. She was home. No army to lead. No endless training of the new Slayers day in and day out. She could walk into a store and buy a fashion magazine and actually have the time to look at it. Granted it would be 1997 fashions, but at the moment she wasn’t feeling picky. Even stonewashed jeans contemplated in leisure sounded appealing.

 

Finally, she allowed herself think about where she was walking to: the house on Revello Drive. Her stuff would be there, and her Mom, and Dawn. Oh wait, not Dawn. That made her brain hurt. She could remember Dawn being there during her Junior year, but Buffy knew that when she reached the house Dawn’s room would be nothing but storage. It was going to be very, very hard to not slip up on the sister issue around her friends. Only she had no desire to burden her friends with the knowledge that she was no longer their Buffy, but an impostor. A broken thing with a crater where her heart should be. She clasped her arms tightly around herself, suddenly cold even though the southern California weather was its typical balmy self.

 

Xander stopped and Buffy, lost in her thoughts, walked right into him. “Well, this awkward silence has been fun guys. Guess I’ll be seeing you bright and early tomorrow at school.” The girls waved as he turned down a side street to head towards his house.

 

“Just us chickens now,” Willow said when they were alone.

 

“Hey, who are you calling chicken?” asked Buffy, giving her a small smile as they continued walking.

 

“Okay, enough with the mumming. No more mum. You better start dishing, Buffy. Who the hell was that guy, and why were you pretty much doing the horizontal tango with him on the dancefloor?”  Willow was looking at her with big, round eyes and Buffy got the feeling her friend wasn’t going to let her weasel out of this one.

 

“So you, uh, saw that, huh?” Buffy drummed her fingers against the sides of her legs.

 

“Saw that? Buffy, everyone there saw that. I mean, I know you’ve been making smoochies with Angel.” Willow didn’t see Buffy wince. “But has he been giving you lessons in, in…” Willow sputtered to a stop.

 

“Acting like a skank?” Buffy filled in for her.

 

“Uh, I w-w-wasn’t going to say that, exactly,” Willow stuttered and then blushed. Buffy’s eyes widened and she nearly stumbled as it occurred to her this Willow hadn’t met Oz yet, had never even been kissed. Oh, wow, speaking of never she suddenly realized the she was still a virgin in this body. Well, she wasn’t but the body was. Weird.

 

She grabbed Willow’s hand. “He was just some guy. I guess I just got carried away. Really, really carried away. Like the carried away-est.”  She paused. “I didn’t mean to make Xander feel bad, and I’m totally glad Angel didn’t show tonight because I don’t need this to get any more embarrassing than it already is.” She snuck a peek over at her friend. Willow was staring at her like she’d grown an extra head. “Uh, say something Willow. Life preserver before I drown in my own mortification over here.”

 

Willow stopped walking and turned towards Buffy. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, then looked around like she was checking for eavesdroppers. Leaning in close to her friend, she whispered: “Did he taste as good as he looked?”

 

Buffy tried to keep them in, but she couldn’t. The giggles erupted out of her and she knew her face was turning beet red. _Oh my god_ , she thought, _Willow just asked how Spike tasted_! The giggles were out of control. She bent over, trying to catch her breath, but it was too funny. This whole ludicrous time travel thing was too funny. She sat down hard on the sidewalk, clutching at her sides. Willow sat down beside her, lips twitching, and then she caught the giggles too. The two friends leaned against each other, laughing. Buffy looped her arms around Willow, giving her a hug. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d sat and laughed together like this.

 

It was a while before she was able to get enough breath in to get a sentence out. “I love you Willow. So much. Thank you for being such an awesome friend.” Buffy tightened her arms again. She’d never said things like that nearly enough. “And just for the record, and to keep my bestie in the loop, he tasted really good.” _And not like a big pile of dust_ , she added to herself. Her smile stretched from ear to ear. It’d been a good night.

 

“If you say so. Willow shook her head at Buffy. “I don’t know what you were thinking…”

 

“Wasn’t,” Buffy said truthfully.

 

“Not finished here.” Willow frowned mock-sternly at her. “I don’t know, or understand, what was going on, but I’m going to chalk it up to temporary insanity.”

 

“He had an English accent, that can be a reason for sanity leaving.”

 

“How do you know that? Did you even say five words to each other before the grope fest started?” Willow asked, temporarily derailed.

 

“There were at least seven, I think.” Buffy stood up, dusted off her hands and helped Willow to her feet. “Let’s get home, big exciting French test for Buffy to fail coming up.”

 

“And parent-teacher banners to finish making at lunch tomorrow, since we didn’t complete them today.”

 

“Right. Forgot about that.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “Do you think we can keep my Mom from _ever_ talking to Principal Snyder?”


	4. 1630 Revello Drive

Bring it home

-Badfinger, "Day after Day"

 

****

 

Spike stepped out of the back door of The Bronze. He glowered as his eyes swept left and right, searching for anyone else that might be using the dirty and cluttered alley as an escape from the cacophony inside. Once he was sure he was alone he let himself relax and fumbled with a trembling hand in his pocket for a fag and his lighter. The Slayer had not turned out to be anything at all like what he’d been expecting.  He crossed into the shadows away from the club’s door.  For the unlife of him he couldn’t figure out how he’d gone from hunting the chit one second to being publicly obscene with her in the next. He found himself grinning because, really, it’d been a rather glorious sort of obscene.

 

There were far too many questions stewing around in his brain for his liking. He stuck the filter of the cigarette between his lips and cupped his hand around the end as he lit it. How the bloody hell had she known who he was? Leaning up against the brick wall he took a deep lungful of smoke and slowly let it out through pursed lips. The nicotine rush made him feel better, but it didn’t do anything to clear up the mystery. What kind of game was the Slayer playing at?

 

He inhaled again, the cherry on his cig glowing bright. It was just bloody weird.  

 

Then something hit him, hard, right in the center of his chest over his unbeating heart.

 

He staggered to his knees and the cigarette fell unheeded to the ground. Sharp pain radiated out in waves from the point of impact. Images flooded his mind, too fast and jumbled to make sense. His demon had come to the fore, and he tasted blood as his own fangs sliced deeply into his tongue and lips. His chest was going to explode and he roared with the agony. Still, he could see nothing beyond the tidal wave of images rapidly flipping through his mind.

 

“Stop!” he sobbed, clawing at the sides of his head.  Over agonizing minutes, the pain slowly died down to a single point of fire in his chest. The cascade of images suddenly paused, and one scene swam into focus. He could see a wheat field under the silvery light of a full moon, the tops eddying in the breeze. As the stalks bent their color waved from light to dark, then light, then back to dark again. The scene shifted and the moonlight was now steaming in through a window. The vast field became the hair of a woman, spread out across a pillow. Spike watched, mesmerized, as she gradually turned to look at him. The Slayer gently brought her palm to his face. She traced his cheek lightly before he caught her hand with his own. Kissing her knuckles, he intertwined their fingers and let their clasped hands rest quietly between them.

 

There was a sickening lurch and he seemed to be standing in sunlight. The Slayer’s hand was still clasped with his. She was saying something but he couldn’t hear…

 

Then he was back in the alley, collapsed on all fours on the grimy asphalt. The pain had dulled to a faint echo in his chest. He stood quickly and brushed the muck from his hands and jeans. Luckily he was still alone in the dark alley.

 

What the hell had the bloody bird done to him?

 

  _Wheat in moonlight._

 Pain. He had to find her. He’d no sooner thought it then the agony lessoned to little more than an echoing drum beat inside of him.

 

_FindBuffyFindBuffyFindBuffy_

 

Spike wrapped his leather coat tighter about himself and set out to track the Slayer down. His demonic features remained in place.

 

_All the better to smell you, my dear…_

 

****

 

How could this be real? This was her porch, her door and her often broken front window. Had it been smashed yet at this point in her Junior year? She could be looking at the original woodwork.

 

_Oh, stop it Buffy, you’re stalling!_

 

From her pocket she grabbed her house key and let herself in. Slowly, one dragging footstep at a time, she advanced into the brightly lit foyer.

 

“Buffy, is that you?” A voice called from the kitchen. “You’re home early.”

 

Her heart nearly stopped. Mom! Her mom! Alive, not sick, not a lifeless body. She took several huffing breaths trying to calm herself. The house smelled like popcorn and home.  

 

“Buffy! Close the door, you’re letting all the cool air out.”

 

The Slayer smiled, it felt wonderful to be mothered. She shut the door and headed into the kitchen. Joyce was standing by the stove, heating up a thing of Jiffy-Pop. Buffy couldn’t help herself as she wrapped her mom in a huge hug. This was the best. _Mom!_

 

“It’s good to see you too honey.” Joyce gave her a one armed hug back. “Have you been smoking?” Buffy stood there awkwardly while her mom sniffed her hair and shoulders.

 

“Uh, that’s a no on the smoking. I danced with this guy at The Bronze and I guess the scent sort of, uh, ru…transferred.”

 

**

Joyce finished up the popcorn while watching her daughter squirm out of the corner of her eye. Buffy had been growing up so fast, it seemed like only yesterday it had been ice skates, bedtime stories, and barbie dolls. Now it was clothes and boys.

 

“So was this guy good looking?” Joyce asked, trying for nonchalant.

 

Buffy’s mouth twitched up into a smile. “Oh my god, Mom, total hottie.” She flopped down into a chair with a dreamy, faraway look in her eyes. It was more than enough to put Joyce’s motherly instincts on red alert.

 

“So…Buffy. Joyce bit her lip, not quite sure how to approach the topic with her occasionally sensitive daughter. “I know we’ve been over some of this before, but I want to make sure you’re being safe.”

 

“I look both ways before crossing the street. Scouts honor.”  

 

“Ha-ha, very funny, sister. You know what I mean.” Joyce dumped the popcorn into a big bowl and added extra salt and butter. “I want to make sure that you know that you should never be pressured into doing something you don’t want to and-“  Joyce blushed, “that if you do want to, you make him wear a condom.”

 

“Do you have any? You’re totally going to have to show me how to put one on so I know if he was doing it right! I mean I had to take his word…” Joyce’s mouth dropped open and Buffy couldn’t keep a straight face anymore and started laughing . “I’m kidding Mom. I’ve got too much to worry about without adding all that to the mess.” Joyce sighed in relief. Honestly she really wasn’t ready for her baby to be out doing those sort of things. “And I promise if and when the time comes I’ll do the right thing. Now, what are we watching?”

 

“Top Hat. A little Fred Astaire never hurt anybody.”

 

“Perfect.” Buffy grinned.

 

*****

 

As the closing credits rolled Buffy stood and stretched. She gave her mom one last hug before heading upstairs. While she didn’t really want the night to end it was probably a good idea to at least try and get some rest. Unless this was all some elaborate fever dream she’d be headed off to school bright and early.

 

“Night Mom, love you!” she hollered while climbing up the stairs. She let her hands run over the banister and along the wall under the pictures and decorations that hung there. How many thousands of times had she been up and down these steps? Had she ever really seen them before? Had that chip in the paint about halfway up always been there or was that something unique to this new reality she was in?

 

“Love you too honey! I’ll see you in the morning.” Her mom called from the kitchen.

 

Shaking her head at the direction her thoughts were running in, Buffy rushed up the last few steps and did a few dramatic dance steps at the top of the stairs. She swayed in front of the mirror while she brushed her teeth and threw some PJs on. They might have been yesterday’s but it was easier than finding another set and they passed the sniff test.  

 

On the way out of the bathroom she turned back to get the lights and found herself rooted to the floor. For achingly long minutes she stood and stared at that spot. The worn, fuzzy bath mat that covered the floor wasn’t the same one from that night. She’d forgotten that her mom had bought a new one after she’d left for college. This room had never known any hurt or pain and nothing bad had happened on that rug. Her chest heaved with old emotions she flipped of the switch and walked away from the darkness.

 

In her room she did a few last Ginger Roger’s type moves before snuggling up under her comforter. She stuck her hand under her pillow while trying to get comfortable and came back out with a fuzzy pink pig. She stared at it, turning the stuffed animal over and over to check that every remembered tear in the stitching and worn spots of fluff were there. Every imperfection was exactly as it should be. She crushed the pig to her chest. After a few minutes she reached out and clicked off the bedside lamp, feeling much less alone with Mr. Gordo in her arms.

“Heaven, I’m in heaven, and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak. And I seem to find the happiness I seek, when we’re out together dancing cheek to cheek,” Buffy sang softly to herself. What a whirlwind of craziness everything had become. She hadn’t wanted this, not even one tiny bit, but now that she was here she was probably stuck with it.

 

Part of her still expected to wake up somewhere else at any minute.

 

But…wow. Willow and Xander tonight. So young and innocent. Living on a hellmouth had sure made life harder for them that it’d needed to be. No, that was wrong. Being her friend is what had made things harder. Knowing her had put those two through hell. Willow a murderer, Xander disfigured. Both losing the loves of their lives in fights that had been hers-not theirs.

 

Buffy knew if she had ever said as much to them in her original timeline that both Willow and Xander would have vehemently argued that she was mistaken. They would’ve told her that they’d known what they’d been getting into and that nothing was her fault. It was a nice fairytale, but seeing the kids they had started out as had jarred her. They didn’t know how dark the world could be or how dark they could be. Buffy did. The shadows had eaten all of them up, chewed them to shreds and swallowed them down. Now here she was being forced to start all over again, to watch it all happen one more time.

 

Who would her friends have been if they’d never met her? Willow would have gone away to college and would probably be running some big tech company, making tons of money. Xander would have found a perfectly normal girl and had a perfectly ordinary life, like he was supposed to. Without her all the ugliness in their lives just didn’t exist. They needed to be without her so they could live.

 

Here and now Buffy had already done her job: she’d killed the Master. That had been her destiny, so much so that the Slayer line had split and no longer flowed through her. She was extra now. There’d be someone else that could handle the crap coming in the next handful of years. Another Slayer, a different hero that didn’t wrap her family and friends up in her own bad luck. Hell, half the stuff that happened probably wouldn’t even have existed if she hadn’t still been alive. Just to be safe she’d write a few letters to Giles to pass on some warnings, and then she could exit stage left before her life started to twist everyone around her.

 

Sure, her mother would grieve, but it would also free Joyce up to go anywhere and do anything she wanted. She could live her last years on her own terms, not trying to make ends meet and caring for an ungrateful teenager. The ugly thought surfaced that the tumor might have been because of Dawn and the mind altering spell needed to make her real. By being gone Buffy might be giving her mother years and years of life back.

 

Of course, without Buffy Dawn would never get to be Dawn. She’d be Kendra or Faith’s little sister instead, or possibly someone else’s all together. Buffy curled her knees to her chest, hands clutching one another. She missed her sister. It was confusing, though, that she could do one thing different tomorrow and she wouldn’t know the consequences for years. She couldn’t spend all her time second guessing about whether or not something she did would lead to a future with no Dawn. Her younger sister was safe and secure back in 2004, so it wasn’t as if Buffy was losing Dawn or making that version of her disappear. The what ifs were making her brain hurt, but in the end no Dawn meant there was no sister for Buffy to fail over and over again. She’d never have a chance to hurt and disappoint her.

 

“Out together, dancing cheek to cheek,” she whispered to her pillow while sliding one hand down her own face. Seeing, hell, touching Spike at The Bronze had really messed with her mind. That hadn’t been her Spike. He didn’t love her, didn’t have a soul, or a chip.

 

_He’s still the big bad, not my whipping boy._

 

Had knowing her made him better? Buffy’s stomach knotted up because she couldn’t easily answer that. It wasn’t black and white. What would Spike choose? Staying the creature he’d spent more than a century perfecting or becoming a broken thing for her to kick one more time before she got around to tossing him that crumb?  Buffy angrily flipped to her other side, getting her covers twisted. If she was gone, just another Slayer notch on his belt, there was no way he’d stay here to dust. By ending her life he’d keep his. _That’s love Spike. You were wrong to say I didn’t love you. I’ll show you how wrong._ It was easy. When he attacked the school on Parent-Teacher Night she’d offer her life to him willingly and her blood to heal Drusilla as long as he promised to leave Sunnydale and never return. Not that he hadn’t gone back on that promise before, but it’d always been because of her.

 

Everyone got hurt, damaged or dead because of her. Tears ran from the corner of her eyes to soak her pillow as she hugged her childhood toy to her.

 

Buffy was going to fix everything. It was so simple. She knew what she needed to do. Having reached a decision, she could finally relax. Smiling softly, she drifted off to sleep dreaming of Fred Astaire, only he had bleached blond hair…

 

****

 

It had taken him a while, but Spike had finally tracked down which sickeningly suburban house the Slayer lived in. He stood across the street, not sure what to do now that he’d run her to ground. The pain in his chest had finally subsided.  It seemed content with waiting and watching now that he knew where the chit laid her head at night.  

 

He lit another fag and leaned against the cheap four-door import parked alongside the curb.

 

What he really needed to be doing was bringing dinner home to Drusilla. She was going to be in a fine mood if he came back empty handed. His Sire had been in a snit when he’d left and now he was going to walk in there bloody well smelling like the Slayer. He was going to have to hold his wicked dark girl down and do something particularly nasty to her so she’d know he still cared. He started to smile around his fangs, but then the sodding whatever it was inside him flared to life. Fucking hell it hurt. He didn’t even know what’d set if off this time.

 

_Moonlight on blonde hair._

 

Doing his best not to think, Spike stood and chain smoked. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. After what felt like years he saw a light go on and the Slayer appeared wearing fuzzy pajamas. She did a little ballroom dance routine, which made Spike chuckle despite himself. Once she laid down he couldn’t see her anymore. He waited a few more minutes until her light went back out and then steeled himself to leave, thinking that the pain might start back up. Only he couldn’t wait any longer. He was going to have to grab some passed out wino as it was and listen to Dru bitch the rest of the night. When he’d finally worked up the nerve to go he was surprised to find his new addition didn’t even give a twinge. Maybe it was enough to know the bint was at home safe. More likely it’d all been some delusion brought on by having been so close to all that Slayer blood.  He shook his head ruefully. Spike didn’t know why he hadn’t simply sunk his fangs into her at the club when she’d obviously been so willing. The girl had been all kinds of willing. He’d been thinking with the wrong head for sure.

 

One thing he did know, as he trudged through the night towards the factory, he damn sure wasn’t going to wait for Saturday.


	5. Ghosts

So many people have come and gone

                           -Boston, “More than a Feeling”

****

Buffy had awoken to a room full of bright, early morning sunshine. Her room and all her stuff, intact and not at the bottom of a crater. It really hadn’t been a dream. The plan from last night seeped comfortably through her brain. She could enjoy everything the next few days would bring because she knew that she would be dead and gone long before she had a chance to taint any of it. Rolling over onto her back she sighed and stretched.  Her hand brushed something that crinkled under her touch. She frowned, onfused as to what it could be.

Sitting up she rubbed the sleep out her eyes. On the pillow, right next to the imprint of her head, was an off-white envelope. Panic bubbled up and constricted her throat. She couldn’t breathe.

Buffy jumped up off the bed like the paper was a coiled snake. Her hands fisted at her sides as she struggled to take one panting breath after the other. This couldn’t be happening. Had she skipped through time?

Angelus!

Her eyes darted around her room, landing on the open window, a breeze fluttering the curtains.  Edging back towards the bed Buffy gingerly reached one hand out and snatched up the offending object. Shakily she opened the envelope to pull out the drawing…no, wait. It was a letter. Now more confused than scared, she flattened out the piece of cream paper to better read the words scrawled on it.

_Buffy-_

_Late last night it came to my attention that an old and fierce vampire has decided to reside in Sunnydale. He is called Spike, and is here for no good reason. Once he starts something, he doesn’t stop, not until everything in his path is dead. Stay away._

_-Angel_

Buffy shook her head. _Way to leave everything important out, like, say, Drusilla, or how about that Spike’s part of your bloodline?_ The corners of her lips turned up. _Little late, Angel. I am so not with the staying away._  

She tucked the letter into her school bag to give to Giles, and made a mental note to ask for the disinvite spell. The idea that Angel had been there, staring at her while she slept, was really giving her wiggins. Sixteen-year-old Buffy had found it romantic, but now she saw it as just plain creepy. More worrisome was that she had slept through the intrusion. No vampire should be able to come into her house without her knowing about it. Her subconscious self needed to get the memo about Angel not having a free pass to the snoozing Buffy show.

Taking a towel out of the hall closet, Buffy jumped into the shower.

The day was going to be a pain. For her it had been seven years since she’d been a junior in high school. For the life of her she couldn’t recall her schedule, her locker combination, or even any of her teacher’s names. Maybe she should pretend to be sick and ask Willow for help? She could claim she had a really bad headache. Only that would make both her friends and her mom super worried. Also, she actually felt great. It’d be hard to fake a headache bad enough to have forgotten a ton of everyday things. Maybe she should at least say she’d slept terribly. It’d be an excuse for appearing a little spacey and out of it.

Strategy in place she let her eye slide close, enjoying the warm water. One of the songs that had been playing while she’d danced with Spike was circling around in her brain. _I did a stupid thing last night._ She hummed it while lathering up her hair. God he’d felt good, all hard muscle and hard...other things. The music running through her head had her swaying a little under the cascade of water. Hell only knew what Spike thought of her now. She was guessing Nikki probably hadn’t dry humped him in public prior to being killed. An ache formed low in her abdomen as she relived the feeling of rubbing up against him on the dance floor. One soapy finger traveled down her stomach and she bit her lip…

“Buffy!” Her mother’s yell made her jump. “Hurry or you’ll be late for school!”

“Damn it,” she muttered, but quickly rinsed her hair and toweled off. Her closet gave her momentary pause- it was filled with clothes that seemed very young.  A little searching and she found a pair of not too flared jeans, a black v-neck shirt. Low black boots, and a white choker. Tossing her hair into a loose bun and putting on makeup made her look at least presentable. She’d have to ask her mom for a little spending money. A trip to the mall was totally in order before Thursday night.

In the kitchen her mom put a plate of toast in her hand as soon as Buffy walked in. Joyce was hurrying to get out the door, but she did a double take when she saw her daughter.

“You look very nice today dear.”

“Thanks, Mom. Hey-” It was worth a shot. “Do you have my schedule from school? There’s a new student I’m supposed to be helping and I want her to know where to find me over the next few days.”

Joyce turned to a fridge and hunted among the papers hung up with magnets. Finding what she was looking for she handed the sheet to Buffy. “Before you photocopy it make sure and white out your locker combo. Now I’ve got to run, I’ll see you tonight honey.”

“Bye Mom! Thanks! Don’t forget Parent-Teacher Night’s this Thursday!”

That had been way easier than she’d expected. She looked over her class schedule. First period today was free, which probably meant Scooby meeting in the Library. It looked like she was going to be jumping back in with both feet.

****

Walking through the halls of the old Sunnydale High was much creepier than she’d thought it’d be. Everything felt slightly off kilter and unreal, a phantom world populated by ghosts.

_Maybe I’m the ghost._

These kids, laughing and roughhousing, worried about tests and dates for the prom- how many of them survived the next year and a half? So many faces she didn’t remember. Worst of all was how unimportant all the little dramas going on around her seemed. A girl crying because her boyfriend of two week dumped her, a guy angry because his parents would only let him use the car on Saturday night instead of Friday, two friends arguing because they both wanted to wear the same sweater tomorrow. It was all so childish.

Buffy felt so much older than everyone else. On automatic while her head spun, her feet remembered the way to her locker. She only had to glance at the number she’d written on her hand once before getting it open. She deposited her bag and books, briefly considered running away to a tropical beach somewhere, then shut the door and turned towards the library.

Rehearsing what she was going to say to Giles, Buffy wasn’t paying attention to where she was going when she smacked into a couple guys standing in the hallway. “Sorry,” she mumbled and went to walk around them.

“Where are you going so fast?” one said, using a meaty hand on her shoulder to push her back. Annoyed she looked up at the two, who were both wearing football varsity jackets, and who were both giving her leering grins.

“Say whatever ridiculous put down you’ve spent all night coming up so that I can ignore it and we can both get to class on time.” Buffy really didn’t want to deal with this.

“Well,” the first guy looked at the second for moral support. “We heard you might be into doing pornos. Thought we’d offer to do a little filming with you.” The second guy circled around behind her, acting like he had a camera. Buffy drug her hand down her face. So much for no one besides Willow and Xander noticing her getting hot and heavy on the dance floor.

“Don’t know about that, guys. You’ve had your fun. Can I go now?”

“Oh come on, you know you like it.” Guy two was moving up to box her in against the first guy.

“I do,” she agreed, “but only if the guy is good looking.” She gracefully ducked and pirouetted out from between them, so that instead of trapping her the two guys just ended up chest to chest. “Pretty sure you two don’t qualify.” She laughed as they sprung apart, then spun on her heel and continued into the Library.

Everyone else was already there. Xander, Cordelia, and Willow were seated at the table, and Giles was to the side talking to…Ms. Calendar. Buffy’s stomach lurched. Had she always looked so young and alive? Jenny gave a little laugh and shake of her head at something Giles was saying. Buffy wanted to rush to her, tell her to get the hell out of Sunnydale, to stay away from all of them. No, wait. It was her, Buffy’s, fault that Angelus had killed Jenny.  If she simply let Spike do what he intended to on Thursday there was no risk of Angel becoming Angulus. Ms Calendar would live and Giles would be spared the anguish of finding her lifeless corpse on his bed.

Looking around the library she could easily imagine the other Scoobies being there. Anya sitting on the table next to Xander, looking bored. Tara standing behind Willow with her hands on the redhead’s shoulders, Oz smiling at something they said. Dawn with her nose in a thick book. Spike leaning with his arms crossed against the far wall. Even Riley bent over the railing of the upper level, smiling at her. _Great, more ghosts._

“Earth to Buffster!” Xander called. “Everything ok? You’re just staring off into space.”

“Ugh, sorry, just tired.” She looked down at the envelope she was holding.

“I wonder why that is, with all that vigorous activity at the Bronze last night.” Xander crossed his arms and glared at her. Buffy rolled her eyes at him, she knew there was no way he was going to let this go.

Cordelia was holding up one hand to inspect her nails “I’ve heard from several people, Buffy, that you put on quite the show.”

Giles and Jenny had walked over to the table and were looking confusedly between the friends.

“Did something happen last night at the Bronze, Buffy?” Giles asked. “Were you attacked? It’s important we keep your identity secret, but I realize sometimes you may have no choice but to defend yourself.”

Xander snorted.

“Uh, no attack,” Buffy said quickly. “The Bronze thing is so not important, but I do have news I need to share.”

Buffy realized she must appear guilty, because Giles glanced over to Willow, who in turn shot Buffy a ‘don’t be mad at me’ look as she started to explain.

“Buffy, well, she…just sort of…there was this guy, see…”

Cordelia broke in. “Last night Buffy danced like a ho with some random older guy at The Bronze. It’s totally already all over school. I can’t believe I missed it, but I had to go shopping for new shoes with my Mom. What do you think?” Cordelia stuck a red pump clad foot out from under the table.

“Those look…expensive,” Willow said.

“Buffy?” Giles obviously wanted her side of the story.

“It was just dancing, y’know, blowing off a little steam.” Buffy found that the tracks in the dust on the shelf next to her head were suddenly very interesting to look at.

 Xander scoffed. “You guys were making steam, not blowing it off!”

“Can we focus? Buffy snapped, “I said I have news.” She handed the envelope to Giles. While he opened and read it Buffy sat down next to Willow. She leaned over to whisper: “I have a favor to ask for later today if you have time.” Willow nodded.

“It’s a note from Angel,” Giles said, getting everyone’s attention. “Apparently we now have not only the Anointed One to deal with, but a new threat in the form of a vampire named Spike. He must be quite a menace as Angel is warning Buffy to stay away from him.” Giles looked thoughtful. “Spike…sounds a little unorthodox.”

“He probably used to go by another name,” Buffy said, suddenly realizing it was going to be a huge struggle to not blurt out something of the incriminating time-travel variety.

“I suppose you’re right. Let’s see if we can track him down in the records so we’ll know what we’re dealing with.” Giles headed over to the shelves that were loaded down with the usual Scooby research materials.

“Big, dusty book time that will not at all lead to spontaneous napping time.” Xander looked resigned as Giles started pulling volumes off the shelves and handing them out. Buffy dutifully took the one he held out to her, though she knew it would contain nothing useful. Over the years she’d read pretty much everything the Watcher had on Spike, and so far all of those books were still sitting there. Giles looked over the top of his glasses at her.

“As for you, I can’t fault you for ‘blowing off steam,’ as slaying does get quite intense. However, I would request that you perhaps be a little more circumspect about it in the future.”

“I’ll try.” She turned and grabbed one of the books that would be useful from the bookcase as she walked past it. As soon as she thought no one was looking she added it to the top of the pile besides Willow. Buffy sat down in the chair next to her friend with a small sigh, and opened her own book.

There were a few minutes of page rustling as everyone at least pretended to be busy.  It was the same as always- boring dates, boring lists, boring facts, boring people, interesting story about extreme violence, back to boring, boring, boring, boring.  Some things never changed.

After what felt like forever Xander yawned and snapped his book closed. “Lots of nothing in here G-man. Maybe Buffy can jump on the table and do the Lambada for us, y’know, to keep us all awake.”

“Xander!” Willow chided before Buffy could think of a clever comeback.

“Yeah, Xander!” she reiterated for good measure. Beside her Willow finished one book, and picked up the one Buffy had placed there.

“Buffy, I think I have the right to be wigging here. You licked a stranger. In public.” Xander leaned forward, pointing an incriminating finger at her.

“What?” Giles was looking at her over his glasses again and Ms Calendar was frowning in her direction. Buffy pretended to be deeply interested in the volume she was holding.

“Hey, I found him!” Willow exclaimed. She stood up and carried the book over to Giles to point out the passage. Buffy sighed in relief at the respite.

“Oh dear.” Giles said, reading what the book said. He took his glasses off and cleaned them before rereading the information.

“Well?” Cordelia said. “We’re waiting. Just how much trouble is Buffy in with this guy?”

 _You have no idea_. Buffy found herself chewing her thumbnail.

“It appears the Angel might be right, that it is perhaps best if you avoid him at all costs Buffy, at least until we have a plan. It says here that he is around a century and a half old, and that in that time he has fought and bested two slayers.” Giles was frowning at the book. “He is also known as William the Bloody, Spike being a nickname he picked up from using railroad spikes to torture his victims.”

“Well,” Xander, for once, seemed a little lost for words. “He sounds like a barrel of laughs.”

Giles was rubbing his right eyebrow like he was trying to keep a headache from forming. “The timing, with the Night of St. Vigeous being on Saturday, can’t be a coincidence. We all need to be on our guard, and we need to spend as much time as we possibly can preparing. Buffy, you should -”

“Wait,” Buffy cut him off. “I need to survive Parent-Teacher Night first, then worry about Saturday.”

“But-"

“No buts Giles. I promise I’ll be ready. At this exact moment though, I need to be focusing on Thursday.” Buffy’s thoughts were a whirl. It was surreal to be sitting here discussing Spike like he was just another, regular, vampire. Her mind was chasing its own tail. Seven years ago when he’d attacked the school she hadn’t been ready and he’d nearly killed her. Now she was counting on him to do it. Other images swirled around and around. Trading blows with him under the sun on the UC Sunnydale campus, his face black and blue from Glory’s torture, him sitting with Dawn and making her laugh, cool kisses in the moonlight, nights spent patrolling with him beside her, the ripple of muscles across his back while he moved inside her, laying together in a stranger’s bed wishing for time to stop, and the light flooding the darkness, his hand burning in hers. _I love you._  

 

“Buffy, are you ok?” Willow was leaning over her.

“What?”

“You’re crying.” Willow looked scared. Buffy reached her hand up, surprised at the wetness coating her cheeks. Xander was standing there too. He handed her a kleenex.

“Sorry guys, I guess I’m more stressed out about stuff than I thought.”

Xander put a hand on her arm. “Hey, we’re here. We’ll help you get through Thursday and Saturday.” Willow nodded in agreement as Xander continued. “I bet you’ll make this Spike guy into a big pile of dust before he even knows what hit him.” They both look confused when Xander’s words made Buffy curl in on herself and start to sob.

Giles laid a hand on each of their shoulders. “You two head to class, and Ms. Calendar if you’d be so good as to research both the Night of St. Vigeous and our new player on the internet I would very much appreciate it. I’m going to take a minute and talk with Buffy.”  The others nodded and filed out of the library, leaving Giles to kneel down in front of his tearful slayer.

Buffy was trapped in the dark. Every which way she ran there was pain. She was so alone in the dark, and the dark never ended…

Giles had pulled Buffy’s hands down away from her face, and was shocked by the vacant stare that met his. “Buffy? Buffy, can you hear me?”

“Huh? What?” She looked around, sitting up and rubbing at her arms. “Where’d everybody go?”

“Is everything ok? Has something happened?” Giles laid a hand on her shoulder. “I know the Night of St. Vigeous is putting a lot of stress on you, but I promise you we’ll meet the challenge. And you’ll even live through parent-teacher conferences.” Buffy gave a hiccuping little laugh at that. “You can tell me if something else is wrong, I am here for you.” He waited a moment but she didn’t say anything. “Did something happen, last night at the Bronze? This thing they’re teasing you about…”

“Oh God! No!” Buffy stood up. “I’m ok Giles. Really. I’m just a little stressed and I had a tired and spacy moment. You know me, sometimes all with the spacy.” She helped Giles back to his feet and gave him a hug. “But thank you for saying all that, and thank you for being here for me. Now can I get a note since I’ll be late to class?”

Once the pass was written Buffy bounded out the door to her next class.

The girl seemed back to her normal self, but Giles couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong with his Slayer.


	6. Best Laid Plans

You had plans for both of us

            -Elliott Smith, “Miss Misery”

****

The mystery meat sloppy joes that the school had the audacity to call food were as awful as Buffy remembered. Embarrassingly, what she couldn’t remember was exactly what she, Willow, and Xander were supposed to be doing after lunch had been eaten. The exact order of events from seven years ago was hazy to her.

What stuck out in her memory was rebellious Sheila showing up late and disheveled and Buffy having to cover for her. Only it turned out that that had happened yesterday. By now she’d already be dead and turned and there was nothing Buffy could do to stop it. It was hard to feel sorry for the tramp. Dusting her for a second time tomorrow was going to feel so good.

With banners having been completed yesterday, the friends were left with setting up information booths, making photocopies of handouts, and creating signs to help parents find their way around.

Xander went off to wrangle the photocopy machine, leaving the two girls working on posters.

Buffy clamped her tongue between her teeth as she concentrated on making the sign for the Art wing look suitably artistic by painting flowers on it.

Willow printed ‘computer’ in block letters on a yellow poster-board before turning in her creaky plastic chair to face Buffy. “What’s this favor you wanted asked me?”

“Well, you know that note that Angel left me?” Buffy looked at the redhead from the corner of her eye.

Willow nodded. “You mean the one from today, about Spike?” Buffy took pride in the fact that she didn’t wince when her friend said his name. She kept the stab of pain all to herself.

“Yeah, that one. He kind of put it on my pillow for me to find.”

“As in climbed up and through your window? Like Romeo? That’s sort of romantic.” Willow had a dreamy look on her face.

“Really, Willow?” Buffy sighed. “He snuck into my house and stood there for however long watching me sleep. More like creepy stalkerish than romantic. It’s making me really uncomfortable.” She shivered.

“I can see where that would cause some wiggins.” The redhead frowned. “But I thought you liked Angel, it’s not like he’s a stranger.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, her friend sounded so…young. “Even if I think he’s a hottie it doesn’t mean I want him in my room, watching me sleep, without me knowing. Serious pervy peeping tom vibe.”

“Okay, okay.” Willow threw her hands up in defeat. “How does this involve me doing you a favor?” She paused in the middle of drawing a monitor on the sign for the Computer Lab and tapped the sharpie against her teeth.  

"I need him disinvited. The favor part-"

“Looking good there, guys!” Xander had a warm stack of copied maps in his hand. He plopped them down on the table and propped one hip up the edge of the table. “What favor needs doing?” he asked, having caught the tail end of what Buffy had been saying, “because I can totally, maybe, possibly help out.”

“Angel was in Buffy’s room last night,” Willow blurted out.

“What?” Xander sputtered. “First motorcycle guy, and now you have the undead in your bedroom?”

“Motorcycle guy?” Buffy asked, puzzled.

“Yeah, y’know, bleach boy last night. I’m sure he’s got a motorcycle.”

“DeSoto, actually,” Buffy said, without thinking. Both her friend’s eyebrows shot up. Oops. “Uh, or at least I imagine that’s what he’d drive.” _Smooth move, Buffy_. “Anyway, my problem is that Angel was in my room last night without my permission. He violated my privacy, then left that note instead of doing something normal, like waking me up and actually talking to me.” She knew he hadn’t because she might have asked him some uncomfortable questions. It was easier to be mysterious ninja vamp instead. Her hands curled into fists.

“It’s making Buffy all wiggy,” Willow added, not noticing the tension that’d crept into Buffy’s body. “She wants us to do a disinvite spell on her house so that Angel can’t be all with the voyerism.”

“Let me get this straight,” Xander said, his face radiating incredulity. “Suddenly you don’t want Romeo climbing up the balcony? I thought you two were totally doing the forbidden romance thing.”

Buffy sighed. “Not you with the Romeo thing too. I’m not Juliet guys. Having someone watch you while you’re unconscious is icky. End of story.”

 _What if it was Spike?_ her mind asked her. Actually, that would be doubly icky. Mostly because it would be out of character for him. He’d watched her window that one year, but only from under the tree, while chain smoking. He’d invade her privacy without asking, and had some serious boundary issues, but he didn’t have the patience to just watch her sleep. Five seconds of that and he’d wake her up to tell her she was snoring, or that he’d thought of something she needed to know right then, or he’d get in the bed with her.

Those last few nights they’d spent together, simply wrapped up in each other’s arms, assaulted her mind. She missed him so much. Why hadn’t she told him? So many seconds had ticked by, rushing towards the end. In any one of them she could have turned to him and said what’d been swirling through her heart. She swayed on her feet, anger at her past-self ripping into her. God, she’d been so stupid, so blind. His strong hands had been gentle as they’d held her. They’d burned, those tender hands, nothing left but ash.

The paintbrush Buffy had been holding snapped in her fist, the loud crack bringing her back to reality.

“Sorry,” she said.

“It’s ok,” Xander patted her shoulder “I’m sure the school has more, unless you were very emotionally attached to that specific one. In which case we’ll have a nice service.”

“I’ll make cookies,” added Willow. Buffy chuckled along with her friends, doing her best to let the tension bleed away.

“So, Willow. Do you think you can find that spell? The disinvite one? And then both of you could help me with the actual disinvity-ness," Buffy asked, returning to the original topic.

“Sure, I’ll get researching.”

Xander shrugged, “I’m your man of disinvite-dom.”

“Thanks guys, you’re the best!”  She smiled, then crinkled her nose as she realized that tomorrow night would be her last. There wouldn’t be time to do the spell first.

She put her hand on Willow’s should to get the girl’s attention again. “Hey, I need you to promise me something.”

Willow responded to the serious note in Buffy’s voice. “Anything,” she said.

“This thing on Saturday could get pretty intense for me.” Buffy swallowed, her mouth feeling gritty with the lie. “If I don’t come back, can you please still do the disinvite? I don’t want him to bug my mom while she’s grieving.”

Willow nodded, wide eyed. She put down her marker and stood up to engulf Buffy in a hug. When Xander realized he’d missed something he just shrugged and joined in, enfolding the two girls in an embrace. Buffy trembled, stunned at the love and acceptance of her two oldest friends.

It was long minutes before any of them moved.

*****

Luck was a tricky bitch, but sometimes she gave up the goods. Like now. The bit of meat Spike had nabbed for Dru had turned out to be a student at the same school as the Slayer. It’d only taken a couple of blows for her tough girl exterior to crack and all the details to come spilling out. There was going to be a little after dark get together at the school tomorrow. The girl’s used body now hung limply in the corner. She’d rise as a new minion not long after nightfall and he figured she’d make a good trap.

That slip of a Slayer might have known who he was, but she didn’t know everything. Her Watcher would have his knickers in a twist over the Feast of St. Fuckwit. They wouldn’t be expecting Spike and his crew to show up early.

Spike lay sprawled on his back in the big bed he’d gotten one of the minions to set up for him and Dru. The vampiress lay next to him but was lost in her own world, talking and laughing with voices only she could hear. Sounded like they were having a right fine time of it too. Hopefully her good mood would hold when she returned to the here and now, it’d make her more likely to eat. He rolled on his side towards her, lightly stroking her dark curls with one hand. He’d always liked brunettes- dark hair, dark eyes, an intensity of color.

_Moonlight, blonde hair spread across a pillow._

Bollocks. The fire in his chest had started up again, and he rubbed savagely at it.

Frustrated, he flung himself onto his back. Where the hell had this need come from? This blinding desire to see the Slayer, be near her. Spike quivered, thinking of her hands and lips on him just the night before.

Buffy, she’d said her name was Buffy. He whispered it a few times to himself, but it still sounded ridiculous. The girl had looked terribly young, sitting at the table in the club with her red-haired friend, but then they’d gotten up to dance and the way she’d moved to the music had been anything but girlish. As a vampire he knew better than to judge a book by its cover, and he’d bet dollars to donuts she wasn’t the innocent little school miss she appeared to be. No virgin knew how to move like that.

He wondered who’d been teaching her, it couldn’t have been the oaf of a boy she’d been dancing next to. Her watcher maybe? Vampire slaying with a side of Lolita? Oh hell, for all he knew the girl was spreading her favors all over town. The fire in his chest sparked bright at that. _Yeah, neither one of us likes that thought much, mate._  

Too bad she was the Slayer. If he could just get his hands on her he’d really show her what was what. Though Spike wasn’t entirely sure the chit wouldn’t be willing. For a while after getting back to the factory he’d been angry at her. He’d thought she must have been playing a game, showing him who was in charge, but that didn’t quite ring true. She'd been all kinds of hot and bothered. Over him! Spike's ego crowed.

He lit a fag, smoking absently, letting the ash fall on the floor. Buffy had been like fire to touch. A living flame. It would burn to kiss her. Fucking her would be like standing in the noonday sun.

Bloody hell, he wanted the girl six ways from Sunday. Maybe seven.

Spike took a long drag on his smoke and let his mind wander. In his imagination the Slayer climbed up onto the bed with him. He could see her straddling him with a sly look on her face. Her hands played with the hem of her blouse before pulling it up and over her head. No bra covered her pert breasts. Under his gaze her nipples tightened to hard points. Her own hands played and tugged at her breasts while she ground that hot, moist core against the front of his jeans.

The new little companion fire in Spike's chest curled up and went to sleep, seemingly content with this train of thought.

His imaginary Slayer slid one hand down her belly and up under her skirt to rub her clit. Those little fingers would be drenched in her wetness in no time. He'd grab her wrist, tug her forward ‘til he could lick and nip those digits. She'd be luscious, candy on his tongue-

Lost in his fantasy Spike hadn’t realized Drusilla had awakened from her dreams until she landed a solid punch to his jaw.

"Bloody hell poodle, what was that for?" He scrambled so he was sitting upright just as she dove for him again. Spike grabbed her, dragging her thin frame tight against him so she could only flail ineffectively against his shoulders.

"Spike!" Drusilla wailed.

"I'm here, luv. Spike’s right here."

"No, you're not!" She started thrashing again. He turned her, cradling her like a child, but with his arms tightening like steel bands around her torso and legs to hold her still.

"What've the sodding pixies been whispering to you now?" he asked, nuzzling her ear.

Drusilla shook against him hard enough for her teeth to clack together. When she finally relaxed, her head tilted back and she stared at the ceiling. "The moon is sailing high tonight," she whispered.

"Can't see the bloody moon, we're inside and it’s day," Spike grumbled.

Drusilla put her finger to his lips. "Don't speak out of turn, my naughty William, or you won't get to find out what the sunshine tastes like."

"Reading my mind now, pet?" That was just what he needed.

Drusilla laughed, tossing her head back. "Mary, Mary, quite contrary," she sing-songed. Then her mood shifted again and she grabbed Spike’s face in her delicate-looking hands. She tilted her head from side to side, staring both into his blue eyes and through them.

“She couldn’t just take you once. Buttercup came back to steal you away all over again. Make Spike all her own.”

“I’m yours, luv. No one’s stealing me anywhere.” Her words were unsettling, partly because of what she was implying and partly because of the sweet, sad finality of her tone.

Her hands slid from his face, coming to rest lightly on his chest. “Buttercup has already done it. You even helped her.” Drusilla tapped him lightly over the heart. Spike held her hand flat there with one of his own.

“What do you know about this?” he asked hoarsely.

She smiled up at him, still lolling her head slowly from side to side. “It’s you, all you. A whisper, an echo, a ghost.”

“I’m no ghost, kitten, I’m sitting right here with you.” Spike bent his head to kiss her, but she flew into a rage again. Her nails clawed at his chest, tearing through his shirt and leaving deep red scratches. Drusilla was screaming.

“Get it out. You’re hers. I’m not ready yet, she’s too early. Get it out! Get it out!”

He clasped her flailing wrists, yanking her arms wide. Her head fell forward onto his bloody chest. She sobbed quietly. When the tears subsided her tongue started lapping at the trickle of blood from the wounds she’d made. Spike let her, releasing her arms and holding her gently, softly petting the back of her head.

The now familiar ache was there, under her lapping tongue. It wanted him to go, push Drusilla away and head out to find Buffy. Angrily he tamped down the feeling. Now was not the time. It was daylight for pete’s sake.

“Tomorrow night I’m going to kill the Slayer for you,” Spike whispered to Drusilla. He’d bloody well make his princess a necklace of the girl’s bones. That caused a stab of fire from the spark, but he ignored it.

Drusilla stopped her licking and looked steadily up at him. “No you won’t.”


	7. Bess

Ain't no better cause, don't give me no other mission

                -Phyllis Hyman, "Don't Want to Change the World"

****

Thursday night came both quickly and not nearly fast enough. 

Xander, Willow and Buffy had wrestled the banners into place and set the tables up neatly in the lounge. Cookies, chips, and veggies were set out and waiting on hungry parents and students. Everything was ready. The stage had been set.

Buffy stared into the big bowl of lemonade she’d made. There wasn’t any sugar in it yet. She knew better now and had a bag with her, but she couldn’t decide whether or not to add it. The first time around she hadn’t. Did making a change this small matter? Would it blow her cover if she did? There had to be a way out of this.

_Think Buffy!_

“Willow!” Buffy called. “Come taste this, I think I did something wrong.”

The redhead grabbed a paper cup, filled it and sipped. Her face scrunched up.  “Sugar! Did you add sugar?”

Groaning, Buffy smacked her forehead. “I knew I forgot something.” She pulled the unopened bag from under the table and handed it to Willow. “How much do you think we should add?”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about it, I've got it.”

“Okey-dokey.” Buffy nodded enthusiastically. _I deserve an Oscar!_ Punch and time crisis averted! A calmness settled on her shoulders and washed down her back. This was going to go perfectly. “Thanks, Willow. I’m off to see about the handouts.”

What could be more noble than a Slayer perishing while defending her friends, family, and school? Her step was light as she double-checked her preparations.

****

The bulk of Parent-Teacher Night went smoothly. No one got lost, had a meltdown or drank sour lemonade.

When parents and students started leaving, Buffy ducked into to the girls’ bathroom to prepare. The mom-approved dowdy look she’d left the house with wasn’t going to work for her last official appearance.

_Leave a beautiful corpse._

The knee length skirt she had on went in the trash, along with the ugly sweater she’d found buried in her closet.  She plunked her oversized purse down on the counter and rummaged through it. The letters to Giles that she’d spent several hours last night writing were tucked away at the very bottom, along with brief notes to her mom and friends saying she loved them.

The black skirt she shimmed into could barely be called that. It was skin tight, but stretchy so she could still move. She’d experimented and found the only thing that hadn’t given her a panty line in it was a pair of underwear she’d bought at Victoria’s Secret one time on a dare from Willow. It was pretty much a scrap of lace connected by dental floss. She’d thought about just going without, but didn’t want the Coroner to ask her mother why her daughter had died without any underwear on.

Her cotton bra came off and was stuffed into the purse. The silver halter top she’d chosen shimmered even in the ugly yellow lights of the bathroom. Made from some silky fabric Buffy enjoyed how it felt draped over her skin. It hung from her breasts in just the right way to emphasize what she had. Buffy smiled at her reflection.

She let her hair down and brushed out the mark from the pony tail holder. Lipstick, mascara, and just a hint of blush and she was ready.

_Time to get this show on the road._

The brown faux leather jacket she’d been wearing all night would hide her clothing change for now. She kept her arms crossed over her stomach as she walked down the hallway. At her locker she paused long enough to stash her purse. It was one of the first places people looked when a student died for any reason, so her notes should all get to the right hands sooner or later.

With a small smile she patted the bag and slammed the locker door shut with a loud clang. It was time to find her Watcher. 

****

“Giles?”

“Yes, Buffy? Is something wrong?” Putting down the book he’d been flipping through, he moved around the table to stand in front of the Slayer. She was looking pretty much anywhere but at him.

“Well, Snyder has my mom in his office talking about me, so that can’t be of the good. Also, I think the school’s going to be attacked. Tonight.” She dragged her eyes up to meet his. “I had a dream, but I thought it was just nerves. Now I have a really bad feeling. Something’s coming.”

The Watcher shook his head, pulling his glasses off his nose to clean them with a handkerchief he hauled out from his pocket. “I wish you’d come to me earlier about this Buffy. Do you have any idea about what to do?”

“Well, I’m going to fight. You’re going to get everyone together in the Library as soon as I say to. Then send Xander to get Angel and tell them to patrol outside, I’ll handle things in here.” She grabbed a couple of stakes, stashing them up her coat sleeves. “Sound good?”

He nodded mutely. It was a good deal more than he’d expected.

“Let’s go then.” She pushed through the double doors of the Library, holding them open for him. Her face was almost angelic in its calmness. Whatever was about to happen, his Slayer wasn’t afraid of it. That terrified him more than he wanted to admit. 

****

Back in the lounge she grabbed by Xander by the front of his shirt. In hushed tones she told him: “In a minute the shit is going to hit the fan. Giles is going to tell you how to get out. Go to Angel for help, but tell him to stay outside the school and watch the perimeter. Make sure he understands that his cover is already blown- Spike knows he has a soul.”

“Fan. Shit. Out. Angel. Perimeter. Spike. Soul. Got it.” Xander nodded. His knees shook, but he bit his lip with determination.

“I know you won’t let me down. Now find Cordelia and get to the Library!” Buffy hissed and pushed him in the right direction. It was a little lie, but she could remedy it soon enough.

Her head whipped around as her mother walked up with Principal Snyder. The former looked furious and the latter smug.

This was it. Buffy could remember everything that’d happened with crystal clarity, like it had been yesterday. Only this time there was no fear. She was ready.

Shrugging out of her coat she let it drop to the floor, turning even as her mother gasped and said something about getting in the car. Movement outside.

_Showtime._

“Giles,” she called. “Now!” He didn’t hesitate, yelling for people to get away from the window and follow him. The vampires were crashing through into the school. For one second she was a scared sixteen-year-old again, but then her back stiffened. Not this time. The Slayer was in control.  A smile played across her face as she locked eyes with Spike.

“What can I say? I couldn’t wait,” he sneered, making a beeline for her.

Buffy snapped into action, letting the stakes she was holding fly. Two of the vamps dusted, her throw hard enough to bury the wood into the wall behind them.

 Spike stopped short, startled. It was obviously not what he’d been expecting.

“Spike, impatient as always.” Another smile curved her lips. He growled in response.

Buffy heard a gasp from behind her. A quick glance showed her Willow standing there with a stunned expression on her face. Moving with all her speed Buffy yanked up a chair and sent it spinning into Spike with one smooth motion. It only bought moments, but it was enough for her to grab Willow’s hand and the shirt of a parent that was standing there like a deer in the headlights and pull them both down the hallway. The enraged vampire bellowed behind them. The Slayer pushed her charges towards the first open door she saw.

“Buffy!” It was her mom’s voice. She turned her head to find Joyce pressed up against the row of lockers.

“Mom!” The Slayer was startled to see her, “Run!”

They piled inside the open science classroom, and Buffy slammed the door shut, locking the handle. “Barricade it!” she yelled, pushing a desk towards the door.

“Are you ok?” Her mom asked, pale and panting herself.

“What’s going on?” The other parent was trembling. Buffy was sure this guy had bought the farm last time. _Hey, cool! I saved a life!_

“Uh, Buffy, that was, that was, uh, Spike?”  Willow was looking at her friend like Buffy had grown a third arm. The Slayer guessed Willow had gotten a good look at the bleached blond vamp and put two and two together and come up with ‘hey, that’s the guy you were grinding pubic bones with!’ _Terrific._

Giving everyone a wan smile she answered: “Mom, I’m fine. I’m actually kind of good in an emergency. As to what’s going on, I don’t know.” She gave a shrug. “Maybe a gang on PCP? And Willow, now is not a good time.”

“But, Buffy…” her friend started.

“Talk. Later.” She grunted as she jumped up on the desks, pushing aside a ceiling tile. “Right this second I’m going to check on everyone in the Library. It’s super important that you guys stay put here for now. Got it?” Three nods. “Try not to worry Mom.”

“Be careful Buffy!” her mom said as the Slayer pulled herself up into the ceiling.

The way to the Library was short, but Buffy knew the vampires had heard her. This was getting to be delicious. Below her she could feel Spike and another vamp. A few more dustings and her work would be done, her burden laid down. She could imagine the coolness of Spike’s lips on her skin, the short sharp pain of the bite, the sweet pull of her blood, the fading into nothingness. Other parts of her were imagining other parts of Spike, and she had to stop and mentally give herself a good shake before dropping down into the Library.

Debris scattered as she landed, just as Giles was about to go looking for her.

“Buffy!” he exclaimed, “Are you all right?”

“How are the others?” Jenny added. “Your mother refused to hide in here without you.”

“I found her, and got her, Willow, and another guy locked in the science classroom across the hall. Did Xander leave?”

“Yes, he’s off to get Angel.” Giles motioned his hand towards the hidden exit.

Buffy nodded absently while she studied the array of weapons laid out on a table in preparation for St. Vigeous. Her fingers ran over the heft of an axe and down the naked blade of a dagger. She missed her Scythe.

After a moment’s hesitation she simply grabbed two stakes and tucked them away. “Giles, make sure everyone stays put until I dust the vamps in the hallway. Then try to get Mom and the others over here from the classroom. Stick together.”

“Do you have a plan Buffy?” he asked.

“Yup, pick them off one by one. They’re all split up looking for us.”  Kicking a chair under the hole in the ceiling she pointed a stake at Snyder, who’d been sidling up behind Giles and looked like he had something to say. “You can just shut it. I’ll get you out of this mess.” _Again._ “Just stay here.”

With a hop she was back up into the ceiling. Crawling slowly forward she heard the muffled voices of Spike and one of his minions, followed by the sound of breaking glass, a pause, then the whack of something sharp against wood. _Ah, good ol’ fire ax._  

Reaching a point above the minion she tensed, straining her Slayer senses to make sure it was now alone. Timing her movements to the strike of the ax, she moved the ceiling tile to make an opening for herself. Muscles tensed she dropped down, stake point first, onto its back. The dust settled without a sound while the ax clattered to the floor.

She took a slow step, then another. Waiting for the next part…

“Hey,” called a soft voice from behind Buffy. She turned to face Sheila, fake smile in place. “Sorry, I’m late. There’s some pretty weird guys outside.”

Buffy gave her what she hoped was a sympathetic look. How bad of a Slayer had she been seven years ago to not instantly know this girl was a vamp? Sheila had almost gotten the drop on her that time. Different story now. Buffy turned, pretended to be peering down the hall. Sheila bent over and lifted the fire ax. She took one more step and raised it to strike. The Slayer spun back around and dusted the surprised girl. The ax crashed to the floor again.

Tapping on the Library door she called: “All clear!” Giles peeked out as she ran to the science classroom and knocked. Her mom looked cautiously through the skinny window in the door before opening it. “Buffy! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Mom, but all of you need to get to the Library. Go now!”  Giles had opened the other door wide. Buffy held her breath until her Mom, Willow, and the other parent were safely inside. She gave Giles a thumbs up and headed off in search of Spike. It was nearly time for the final scene of the night’s little drama.

“Here kitty, kitty, kitty.” She could hear him calling.

  _Oh, this kitty’s coming for you, alright._

No, wait, bad brain! Not what she was supposed to be thinking right now. Noble thoughts only, about sacrifice and saving people she loved. Her brain responded by quickly replaying several x-rated scenes that could loosely be associated with “kitty” and “coming.” Maybe she could blame it on her teenaged body being hormone central.

_Her back was on a dirt floor, her thighs pressed tight against his ears while her nails dug into his scalp as she screamed…_

_Not now brain!_  

Buffy crept up to a bend in the hallway, her footfalls silent on the scuffed linoleum. She could feel a vamp waiting just around the corner. She peeked, and luck was with her as the minion stood just few feet down the hallway with its back towards her. Spike was further down the same hallway, looking at the ceiling and punching a piece of rebar up into it.

Quite as a mouse she snuck up behind the fledgling, dusting it without a sound. Spike stopped, cocking his head to the side.

“Fe fi fo fum. I smell the blood of a nice…ripe…girl.” He turned towards her, the contours of his vampiric face harsh in the low light.

Her breath hitched. He was still beautiful to her.

Buffy pulled the stake hidden in her waistband out and held it away from her body. “Do we really need weapons for this?”

“I just like ‘em. Make me feel all manly.” He ran hand slowly down over his abdomen, stopping just above his fly. Buffy knew she was staring. She remembered him making the exact same gesture seven years before and she remembered thinking “ew!” at the time. Now, to her embarrassment, it ignited a fire low in her belly. Her nipples tightened, and Spike smirked at her. “Your high beams are on, luv,” he purred, and dropped the rebar he’d been holding. In answer she let the stakes fall to the ground.

Leisurely he stalked towards her. Buffy held her ground, unafraid.

“The last Slayer I killed, she begged for her life,” he boasted. “I don’t see you as the begging kind.”

“Well, at least not for my life anyway,” she winked at him, then closed the distance and let her fist fly, making him stagger. He recovered quickly and came up swinging.

Buffy didn’t hold back, and she didn’t pretend not to know how he fought. More than once Spike looked surprised when she anticipated an attack, blocking or countering him with ease. She knew when he really started enjoying the challenge, when things shifted and it was no longer an attempt at a quick kill. Spike tried to draw her into traps, or test her strength. Every time she met him blow for blow. Finally, Buffy realized she was wasting time she didn’t have. She needed to end this.

Buffy landed a hard elbow across his face, knocking him to one knee. Pushing off roughly from the floor Spike spun back up and around, body checking her against the wall. She grabbed his upper arms and froze.

“Stop,” she said quietly. He grabbed her wrists, pinning them against the wall with a growl. He made no further move, just looked at her with wild, yellow eyes. “I have something to tell you.” Her voice sounded low and breathy. Damn hormones.

“Listening,” he said through his fangs. His gaze flicked down, watching the rise and fall of her breasts against his chest as she panted for air. She couldn’t immediately continue, her brain and tongue seemingly frozen. He was so close. Liquid fire pooled between her hip bones. His nostrils flared as he caught the scent of her desire. With a growl Spike rolled his pelvis up against her and ground his erection against her belly. Buffy moaned and arched into him.

_No time._

“You can’t stay here in Sunnydale.” The words were a whimper from her dry mouth.

“Can’t I, Slayer?” He ran his tongue over her neck and the stab of pure lust that lashed through her had her bucking her hips up harder against him. Spike groaned against her shoulder.

“No. Big no. I want you to kill me. Here. Now. Drain me. Take my blood back to…” Buffy couldn’t bring herself to say Drusilla’s name. Stupid jealousy. Instead she kissed along his jawline, catching and biting his earlobe. Spike hissed. Letting go of one of her wrists, he brought his hand up under her skirt to grab her backside, his palm working the naked flesh he found there.

 

It was a mammoth effort for her to find her voice again. “Once I’m dead, go! Get in your damned car and the both of you leave and never, ever come back. Promise me this, and my blood is yours.” She really should have rehearsed this, she sounded so melodramatic.

“Slayer,” Spike’s voice was low and husky. “What do you gain by this? What game are you playing?” His fingers trailed a path from the cheek of her ass down to barely brush the wetness at her core. His brow creased. “And are you wearing any knickers?”

“Huh? Yeah, g-string. If you stay here, you will die. This place is your end. So leave. Now. Tonight. I know this doesn’t make sense, but my willingness to die here should serve as warning enough. I wouldn’t waste my life on something that wasn’t important. Promise me you’ll go.”  

His clever fingers were running over her damp cleft. He found the scrap of fabric that made up her panties and gave it a tug. Buffy mewed at the sensation. Between his probing fingers and the friction from the hardness behind his zipper pushing against her clit, she was close to cuming.

“Bess then, are you?” he murmured in her ear. She looked up into his now navy blue eyes.

“Bess?”

“Y’know ‘Moon is a ghostly galleon, tossed upon cloudy seas.’ ‘Death at every window, and hell at one dark window, for Bess could see through her casement the road that he would ride.’ ‘cold on the stroke of midnight?’”

Buffy shook her head. Was Spike quoting _poetry_ at her? She’d obviously thrown him for a bigger loop than she’d thought. His fingers kept up their rhythm, circling her clit and brushing over her labia with deft strokes. 

“What the hell do they teach in school these days? There’s a line: ‘and warned him with her death.’”

“Oh,” she gasped, rocking her hips faster.

“So Bess, I’m trying to figure out what you’re warning me about. Though I should say I do agree to your little deal. Don’t want to spend any more bleedin’ time here than I have to.”  His fingers stopped just petting her slit. While his thumb remained flicking against her nub, he began pushing one blunt finger slowly up inside her quim, circling a little as he invaded her. It was too much, it was enough, and he’d barely gotten to the second knuckle before her inner muscles clamped fiercely around him and then fluttered.

“Bloody hell,” Spike murmured against her as he slammed his mouth into hers. Buffy keened her pleasure as they bruised each other’s lips. Once her walls had stopped milking his finger he brought his hand out from under her skirt. It was drenched with her desire. Looking smug he licked her cream of his fingers one by one while her eyes followed every move.

 “This is going to make a really great story someday, about the Slayer that wanted to get off before she was offed,” he purred, bending his forehead to hers as he shifted back into his vampire form to let her have a good look at the demon that had made her cum. Buffy thought he might be trying to intimidate her, only instead she found it incredibly sweet. She brought her free hand up to caress his cheek and he turned into it, kissing her palm before bringing both his hands to her hips and yanking her against him. He wasn’t done with her yet.

“You tasted me,” she gasped as he continued to grind against her, his face inches from hers. “My turn n-“

His eyes lit up just has he was knocked away from her. Buffy muffled a scream.

“You get the hell away from my daughter!” Joyce, clutching an axe, was standing over him. He glanced quickly back to her, and she could see the promise on his face. He’d find her again, soon.

“Women,” he spat before rolling to his feet and jumping back through the broken window and out into the night.  

Buffy felt tears running down her cheeks. Joyce gathered her daughter into a tight hug.

“Are you ok? Did he hurt you?” her mom asked.

“No, no, I’m- he didn’t do anything.” Buffy wondered how much her mother had seen. Damn it, she knew Joyce grabbed the ax, should have remembered. Instead her brain had turned into a big pile of lust-filled goo.  Now she’d lost her chance, most likely until…Halloween. So many days between now and then.

****

Spike made it a block from the school before stopping to prop himself up against the trunk of a tree. The ache from the side of his head where the Slayer’s bloody mum had hit him was a flea bite compared to the fire searing his chest from the inside.

He turned back the way he’d come, taking a few steps before crashing to his knees.

_Find Buffy!_

Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. He knew where the damn girl was, back at the school with her mates. It was certain death if he just waltzed back in there. The pain eased up some, but he was still fighting the urge to go to her. It was madness. He dropped his face into his hands, only to fling back his head and howl in silent outrage when her scent assaulted him.

She’d tasted better than he’d imagined.

He should have grabbed his Bess and slung her over his shoulder. Probably he could have barely touched her wrist and she would have followed him. God, then he could be balls deep in her up against the tree instead of wallowing in agony.

A minion that’d survived nearly ran right into the seething vampire. Spike was on his feet in an instant and throwing the helpless fledgling into the street. With a snap he broke a branch from the tree and dusted the minion as it was trying to get back on its feet. The violence made him feel a little more like himself, and with one last glance back towards the school Spike turned and trudged towards the factory and Drusilla.

The fire had banked itself, biding its time.

****

Buffy dashed the tears out her eyes. She wondered if anyone would try to stop her if she leapt through the window and took off after Spike. The need was nearly overwhelming. One foot slid towards the broken glass.

A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she noticed Willow standing behind Joyce. The redhead looked shocked and scared. Whatever the two of them had seen, Willow had probably been the one to interpret it correctly. Buffy put a hand on her mom’s arm. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t go charging off into the night.

“Hey, can we go home? I’m really tired.” She needed to get out of there before she changed her mind again, before Willow started asking questions, and before Angel had a chance to smell her.  

_That’d be a hoot._

“Uh, sure, let me just check with the authorities first.” Joyce walked over to the nearest police officer.

With Buffy now alone, Willow carefully made her way over the Slayer.

“Buffy,” her voice was tiny. “What’s going on? ‘Cause that was Spike, wasn’t it?”

To her mortification Buffy felt her face flush bright red. “Yeah, that was Spike.”

“Uh…that didn’t really look much like fighting.” Willow was twisting her hands into her pant legs and studiously examining the floor tiles.

“Well, it started out that way.”

 

“What about at the Bronze? ‘Cause I didn’t see any fighting there first.” Willow was clearly flustered, and Buffy could understand why. A new Big Bad had rolled into town and instead of being afraid or trying to kill him, all Buffy seemed to want to do was get pelvic with him. It must downright baffling.

“Look, my mom’s coming back. Let’s talk about it next time we’re together, ok?” Buffy patted her friend on the shoulder.

Willow nodded, “Yeah Buffy, you really need to make with the talking.”

“I know.”

****

The drive home was quiet, too quiet. It was making Buffy's brain churn. What the heck had happened? She'd planned right up until Spike ripped into her throat, even going so far as to mentally prepare herself for the pain so she wouldn't flinch. How was she supposed to know that she'd end up with his fingers inside her, instead of his fangs?

It was absurd, only she could screw up dying this badly. Partly she blamed Spike, who wasn't doing what she expected- not that he ever had. Again she reminded herself that this wasn't her Spike. There was no love, no soul, not even the chip. Her mind knew all this, but her body was seriously not getting the memo.  Even weirder was his reaction to her arousal. He should be throwing it back in her face, calling her ugly names. Instead he quoted poetry at her while blowing her mind. Nothing was with the sense making at the moment.

"Are you going for the world record for most heartfelt sighs in a row?" Joyce's voice broke into Buffy's thoughts, interrupting her repeated play backs of how Spike had looked while he'd teasingly licked his fingers clean.

She hoped her mom was watching the road and not how her face was turning ten different shades of crimson.

"So, uh, what did Principal Snyder have to say about me? You looked pretty mad when you came out of his office."

It was Joyce's turn to sigh. "It was a lot about what a troublemaker you are, but I bet he might be singing a slightly different tune on Monday."

Buffy made a noncommittal noise. Her mom was vastly underestimating Snyder's dislike of her.

"I know I saw a side of you tonight I didn't know about. You took charge and got everyone out alive. I'm very proud that I have a daughter who can take care of herself." Joyce glanced away from the road for a second to grin at Buffy.

Her mother's praise made her glow. "Thanks Mom, I did my best."  There was silence for a few moments and then she remembered something she’d been supposed to ask about before now. "Hey, after all that crap tonight I really don't feel up to showing the school off. Can you please call tomorrow and get us out of the temporary exchange student deal?"

"That sounds like a good idea honey."

Silence descended again, and Buffy figured she'd dodged the awkward question bullet. Her relief lasted right up until Joyce pulled into their driveway and turned the key off. Instead of getting out she lightly grabbed Buffy's arm.

"Are you ok?" Joyce asked, running her eyes over her daughter from head to toe. "Did that guy hurt you?"

"I'm not so easy to hurt." Buffy was wishing her mom knew about her world, it would make so many things much easier.  Right this second wasn't the time to go blabbing about it, but she made a vow to tell her before Joyce found out the hard way, again.

"It was dark," her mom continued, "and he had that long coat on, and I thought he might be…"

"Might be what, Mom?" This should be rich, thought Buffy.

"Well," Joyce twisted her mouth, struggling to find the right way to word her question. "I thought perhaps he was touching you…” Joyce swallowed hard, “that he was touching you inappropriately."  

Buffy bit her tongue to keep from either laughing or asking what her mom meant by 'inappropriately.' Thank goodness for that coat, it'd hidden just how familiar they had been getting below the waistline.

"Mom, I'm fine, really. You can stop worrying now. I promise this won't turn into a big therapy bill."  If her mom had been much later Joyce would have been the one needing therapy. Buffy had been a heartbeat away from dropping to her knees and doing her best mini-vac impression.

Joyce finally let go of Buffy's arm. "Alright then. Remember I'm here if you need to talk."

"Thanks Mom, now let's go drown our stress in ice cream."  


	8. Love's Refrain

you're all these things to me  

-Material Issue, “Diane”

 

****

 

Due to the destruction of school property by a gang on PCP, Sunnydale High School was closed on Friday. Not having planned to live past Thursday night, Buffy was at a complete loss as to what to do with herself when her mom kissed her good-bye that morning and left for work.

At 2 p.m. she was still wearing her pajamas with her hair up in a messy ponytail, sitting on the couch and eating cookie-n-cream ice cream straight out of the carton. She was watching people yell at each other on Ricki Lake, which wasn’t her first choice, but she couldn’t find the remote and didn’t want to stand up and change the channel. The TV’s sound was up way too loud, but since that kept her from thinking she let her ears hurt.

When the phone rang she almost didn’t hear it over the irate guy screaming at his wife for cheating on him. She located the handset under a copy of People magazine on the floor and answered. “Yeah?”

“Buffy?”

“Hi, Giles.”

“Can you turn that racket down?”

“Hang on.” With a grunt she unfolded her legs and walked over to mute the sound on the TV. “Better?”

“Yes, sounds less like Victoria Station at rush hour now.”

Buffy plunked her behind back on the couch and grabbed her spoon. “So what’s up?”

“First of all I wanted to make sure you were doing alright after last night.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked around a mouthful of ice cream.

Her Watcher sputtered. “The school was attacked, your friends, your mother. You faced off against a Master Vampire with a long history of killing Slayers. Frankly I don’t know how you’re not…somewhat, more…upset, then you are.”

“No one died, right?”

“Right.”

“So all good.” Buffy dropped the spoon into the ice cream and picked the carton up with both hands, the phone cradled between her head and shoulder. She walked into the kitchen.

“Well, be that as it may, we still need to discuss St. Vigeous. The Anointed One will be preparing his forces for-“

“The Anointed One is dust in the wind.” She let her spoon clatter into the sink and put the lid back on the remaining ice cream.

“Excuse me? Did I hear you correctly? The Anointed One has been killed?”

“Mm-hmm.” She opened the freezer and put the carton away. The door thudded closed and she wiggled her fingers. They were numbed and chilled from holding the ice cream.

“Did-how- was it you?”

“Oh, no, Spike killed him.” Her whole body clenched as she said his name. Breathing shallowly, she slipped her freezing cold hands under the camisole she was wearing and over her stomach until she was cupping the undersides of both her breasts. The skin there was so soft and seared against the ice of her touch. Her eyes slid shut. She squeezed gently, imagining it was his hands on her. Roughly, because that’s how he’d do it, she pinched one nipple and her breathing accelerated.

“Buffy?”

“Oh, shit.” She fumbled for the phone as she nearly dropped from off her shoulder. “What’d you say?” She was extremely glad Giles couldn’t see her flaming red cheeks.

“I asked how you knew that he’d done that. Did you have another dream?” His words were clipped. Whoops, she hadn’t meant to fall into fantasy while talking to her watcher. Her brain was completely addled.

“No, uh- He told me.”

“Excuse me?”

“On Parent-Teacher Night. Y’know Spike with the bragging.” The bragging, the fingers, the mouth, all the other parts…

“Buffy, I’m completely lost here. You were speaking with him?”

“It’s not like we sat down and had a cup of tea and a nice chat. He had me pinned up against the wall and was running his mouth off. My mom clipped him with an ax. Okay?”

“Yes, well, what about tomorrow night?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. Way to evade the topic, Giles. “I decimated their numbers and the leader who cared about the ritual is gone. There’s not going to be a big, super-powered attack. I’m staying in tonight, but I promise tomorrow I’ll go out on patrol and I’ll even be extra careful.”

There was an exasperated sigh. “Fine. I expect to be kept updated.”

 

“That works. Bye!” She hung up the phone and sat back down on the couch. On the TV people were still arguing.

Halloween was the next time she knew for sure she’d see Spike. She hated the wait. Going to class and acting normal for the better part of a month wasn’t going to be easy, but the sacrifice would be worth it in the end. No silly pink fru-fru ‘don’t you love me, Angel?’ dress this time around. She’d have to come up with a costume that said ‘please sink your fangs into me and drain me dry, Spike.’ She tapped her chin with one finger. This was going to take some planning to pull off.

Buffy stood and shut off the TV before heading upstairs to take a shower.

****

Saturday night was the usual balmy, Southern California kind. Patrol was going well. There’d been enough activity so that she wasn’t bored, but not so much that it became work instead of fun. And despite herself Buffy was enjoying her rounds. It was the sort of thing she couldn’t have imagined missing when she’d actually been sixteen. Walking through Sunnydale graveyards, taking out the baddies. Twirling her stake, she smiled widely. This was home. For the first time in more than a year she felt like she wasn’t completely out of place.

For the last twenty minutes she’d been tracking a G…Gl…whatever demon. The trail was old and she didn’t have much hope of actually finding it, but it was something to do. Her head tilted to the side as she again felt, right at the edge of her range, the tinglies that said vampire. One had been following her all night. She guessed it was Angel doing his sacred from-the-shadows duty. It’d never made sense to her why he just didn’t patrol alongside her. She was the Chosen One. There was nothing about being the “walks around at night with no one to talk to” one. Even right now she’d welcome his company, not that she had any idea what they’d talk about. Of course, it was Spike who she really wished was there chattering away beside her. It used to bug her that his mouth didn’t seem to have an off switch, but she’d give her eye teeth right now to be listening to him prattle.

Buffy sighed. She tucked her stake away and gave up on the demon. It was getting close to time for her to head back.  Closing her eyes, she felt the wind slide over her skin and lift her hair. That endless, aching hollow inside her that she'd never quite learned to live with was still there. It'd been ripped into her when the hellmouth had collapsed. There was no band-aid to cover it, no antidote for its poison. Even now, even here, after the impossible had happened, its maw still gaped and devoured everything inside her. Touching Spike, feeling him, had been cruel. He wasn’t her Spike.

Looking up, she flipped off the sky, pissed at whatever or whoever decided that her suffering couldn’t end.

A few more rows of graves and she found one that was new: the fresh black soil evidence of someone else’s recent sorrow. She could feel, and hear, the fledgling waking up down there and struggling to get out of the coffin. _I feel your pain, buddy._ Leaning against the headstone of the grave she crossed her arms and prepared to wait.

The tinglies from her shadow vampire started getting stronger. The sensation washed over the nape of her neck and slid down her spine. It was very much not Angel. She clenched her stake tightly, waiting until the vamp was less than ten feet away before spinning to face him in an attack pose, arm held high.

“Hi Spike,” she chirped. Her muscles tensed, and it took everything she had not to drop the stake and go running to him. She had to remember the plan. Halloween, that was to be her moment. She hadn’t been expecting to see him before then.  

He was standing there, skin glowing pale in the moonlight and his hands raised. “Truce,” he called. “I just wanna talk.”

“Right, I’m sure you say that to all the Slayers.”

That made him smirk, his tongue curling behind his teeth in that way that made her…

“Just you, Bess.” He strolled a few steps closer.

Buffy exhaled and lowered the stake. “I can’t actually put this away,” she said. “I’ve got a customer coming.” She waved in the general direction of the recent grave. Spike shrugged and walked nonchalantly over to lean on the headstone next to hers. The casual pose didn’t fool her, Buffy knew him too well. He was all underlying tension, worried that she might attack him. “I’m so not planning making you dusty at the moment,” she said. “So chill and start talking.” Buffy hopped up so she was sitting on the grave marker. “I’m bored.” His eyes narrowed for a moment, then most of the tension left him. Calmly, he pulled his smokes from the pocket of his duster.

“I’m trying to figure you out,” he mumbled around the cig as he lit it.

“Seriously?” Buffy said, “I’m a woman and therefore a complete and utter mystery.”

“Ain’t that the sodden’ truth,” he sighed. “Y’know, pet, I’ve been watching you all evening, studying you.”

“Yeah, I know. Did you learn anything?”

He shrugged. “You’re a bloody good Slayer.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Spike chuckled, shaking his head.

“I bet I can guess one thing you wanted to know.” Buffy drummed her heels against the headstone.

“Do enlighten me, luv.” His eyes never left her as he took long drags on the cigarette.

“You want to know if you’re special.” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she grinned at him. “I bet you’re asking yourself whether it was you, or if I just have some weird vampirey-fetish thing.”

All of a sudden Spike was looking anywhere but at her and one hand was rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re blushing.” She grinned.

“ ‘S not true. I can’t blush.”

“Maybe not with the flushed cheeks, but you’re doing the next best thing. And in case you didn’t notice, I made some new piles of dust today, so the answer is that it’s just you.”

“Why me?” He was gazing at her from under heavily lidded eyes, which really wasn’t fair.

“Well, geeze, how the hell am I supposed to know? Would you like the answer to the meaning of life or how humanity can achieve world peace with that?”

Spike threw his hands up in defeat, moving from where he’d been leaning to pace at the far end of the new grave, opposite of where she was sitting.

“You still want me to kill you?” he asked, his eyes darting sideways to glance at her.

“Yup,” Buffy confirmed. “But only if you leave Sunnydale right after and promise to never, ever come back. In fact, as soon as this fledgling’s dusted, you’re welcome to go ahead with the killing and the draining.” She tapped the side of her neck with her stake. Plans could change, and he was here now.

Stopping mid stride, he turned and stared at her. His left hand was rubbing a spot over his sternum. Buffy frowned, it was the place she’d aim for if she was going for his heart. “Not tonight,” he finally said. The blue eyes dropped to the ground. “Oh, right. Bess- looks like you’re up.” A hand broke through the dirt, scrambling to find purchase. Buffy hopped off the headstone, stake ready. Spike tossed away his cigarette butt. A second hand followed, the fledgling quickly pulling itself entirely up out of the grave.

“Oh my god, seriously, you were buried in a powder blue suit?” Buffy couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. The fledgling vamped out and turned on the Slayer.

“Not your lucky day mate,” Spike said. The fledgling spun back around, confused. It advanced on Spike, snarling. “Batter up, Slayer,” he said, striking out with a kick that sent the fledgling flying backwards, right into Buffy and her stake. The vamp dusted, but the momentum meant that the grit ended up covering her head to toe.

“Ugh.” She tried to brush herself off. “Not again. This stuff really doesn’t like to come out in the wash.”

“Bess,” Spike chuckled, “you’ve got a little something...” He gestured to her entire body.

“Thanks, you’re very helpful.” She did her best to at least get it out of her hair. Finally giving up, she walked off. “Come on, let’s go.”

“What?” His brows were scrunched together and he looked adorably confused.

“I’ve got the rest of my patrol to finish, so let’s get going.”

Spike fell in step beside her. She really hoped her face wasn’t betraying how pathetically elated she felt. _Don’t start with the happy tears._  

They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes before Spike said: “This is really weird.”

“What is?” She tensed. “Do you sense something?” Buffy turned her head back and forth, looking for a threat.

“I mean this, us, what’s happening right this minute.” He stuck his hands into the pockets of his duster.

“Oh, because it feels so normal?”

“Yeah, it’s-” he broke off, searching for a word.

“Comfortable.” Buffy supplied.

Spike nodded. “That’s right, it’s bloody comfortable, which makes it bloody weird.” Buffy just shrugged. She didn’t have an answer for him, because while she knew why she felt that way, it didn’t make sense to her that he would too. “I’m a vampire, you’re the Slayer. One of us really should be dead by now,” he muttered. She noticed one hand had crept back up over his chest again. The action was a little eerie, because it echoed her own tendency to cover the spot where she’d stabbed herself.

“Hey, it’s not like I haven’t been trying with the whole death thing,” she said, a little miffed. Really, it was mostly his fault she was still here to bother him. “You could just go all fangy and finish this up at any time.”

Spike rounded on her with his eyes swirling amber. “Not tonight!”

“Right, got it. Really.” She stepped around him, heading for the cemetery gate that would mark the end of her patrol obligation for the night.

“Wait, Bess.” He ran around so he was in front of her again. She stopped and crossed her arms. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking straight into her eyes. Buffy’s mouth fell open.  “I just have another reason I’m here tonight, is all.” His gaze dropped away from hers as he shuffled his feet while rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.

“You’re blushing again,” she pointed out, a smile flittering across her lips.

He rolled his eyes. “No I’m not.”

“Spit it out.”

“Well, don’t read too much into this, since it’s strictly educational, but I got you a present.”

Buffy lit up like a Christmas Tree, “A prezzie? For me? Let me see!” She bounced on her toes, smiling widely.

He beamed at her and from his duster’s pocket pulled out a slim square package wrapped in brown paper.

“You want it?” he teased.

“Oh, yes! Mine!” She tried to grab it, but he held it up out of her reach.

“Wot, Slayer, it’s right here,” Spike taunted, waving the present at her. Laughing, she jumped, but he kept it just out of her reach. “Going to let the big bad win?” Spike was laughing now too. She scrunched up her face, focusing on the gift. A couple more jumps and that look turned sly. Buffy managed to slip a foot behind his ankle and they both crashed to the ground. Instantly she scooted up and grabbed the package.

“I win!” she said triumphantly. Spike rolled to his side so he could watch her open it. The brown paper ripped easily under eager fingers. “Best Remembered Poems,” she read out loud, her voice choked.

“I marked a bit there.” He pointed at a slip of paper tucked between the pages.

Fingers trembling, she opened the book to the place he’d bookmarked. “‘The Highwayman’ by Alfred Noyes,” she read.“Spike, is this my poem, the Bess poem?”

Sitting up now he was busily studying the chipped paint on his thumbnail. “Yeah, that’s the one. Still don’t know how you’ve managed to never read it, you should run along home now and do so.”  

Buffy jumped to her feet. He still wasn’t looking at her and she figured he’d reached maximum weirdness saturation for the evening. Slowly, so as not to startle him, she walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, for the book.” He was frozen under her touch. She moved her hand up to barely graze his cheek. He flinched and her hand fell away. It was time to make things less odd and get the ball rolling for Halloween. “I just want you to know that the next time I see you, I’m going to try to kill you.” It hurt to say it and her heart beat raggedly.  She looked for a sign that he could hear her distress.

He remained motionless. “Looking forward to it.”

“Good.” Then she turned and quickly walked away before he could see the tears. Once outside the gate she took off running, not stopping till she’d reached her front porch. It took Buffy a few moments to compose herself, then she opened the door, calling a greeting to her mom.  

“How was The Bronze tonight, honey?” Joyce said, coming out of the kitchen.

“Not bad.” Buffy groaned. She really needed some new cover stories. Dancing at the club wasn’t going to explain the intractable dust she was coated in. “I got a present.”

“Well, that’s different, what is it?”

“It’s a book,” she said, then seeing her mother’s confused look she hastily added: “A poetry book. He said one of the poems reminded him of me.”

“So this present is from a guy?” Joyce asked. Buffy nodded. “This wouldn’t be the “total hottie” you mentioned from the last time you were there, would it?” Her daughter’s blush was all the answer she needed. “You remember what I said about being safe?” Joyce called as Buffy rushed up the stairs.

“Yes, Mom, I’m still looking both ways!” Buffy set the book on her bed, then took a quick shower to get the dust off. She shoved her clothes into the bottom of the hamper, making a mental note to ask her mom about what magic she used to get stains out. A quick tooth brushing and an old t-shirt pulled on and she finally lay down on her bed with the book. The poem was longer than she’d expected, but it was amazing. It was a love story, a ghost story, a story of sacrifice. She read it a couple more times, lingering over her favorite parts.

_He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there_

_But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,_

_Bess, the landlord's daughter,_

_Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair._

There was her name! A pet name that belonged only to her, that was new. It was a thing she could hold onto that made her insides all warm and her toes curl. Buffy flipped the page and ran her fingers over the words Spike had underlined.

_Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,_

_Then her finger moved in the moonlight,_

_Her musket shattered the moonlight,_

_Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him-with her death._

She thumped her head against the pillow _. I’m trying to, you idiot vampire_. He wasn’t making it easy with the presents and the orgasms. Great, now she sounded like Anya. And what the heck was she going to tell Willow on Monday?

Sticking the strip of paper Spike had used as a bookmark back into place, she closed the book and turned off her light. Clutching her present to her chest she recited the lines in her head as she waited on sleep.

_And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain._

****

Spike watched the gate his Bess had disappeared through as he struggled not to run after her.

There was something wrong with him. The Slayer had all but shoved her neck into his mouth and told him to drink and he just couldn’t. His cock had saluted her efforts but not his fangs.

He dropped his head into his hands. A poetry book. He’d gone and bought the bloody chit a poetry book. He might as well have just cut off his balls and handed them to her.

God, the look on her face when she’d torn off the paper. His demon had purred in delight and the human side of him, the poncy bugger that’d supposedly died years ago, had been in euphoria.

He was lost. The fire in his chest pulsed gently in sympathy. It’d been in excited sparkles most of the evening, until she’d left and fire had lashed through him. Like he hadn’t felt bad enough when she walked off crying. He was an idiot. When she’d touched him he should have snatched her wrist, pulled her into his lap, and snogged her until she turned blue.

Shagged her until she screamed.

Wearily he climbed to his feet. With one last, lingering glance at the gate he turned and trudged the other way. He didn’t really want to head back to the factory yet. Ever since he’d come back from the school attack and dusted the Anointed One Dru’d been avoiding him, saying that he was too bright to look at. It should have bothered him. Drusilla had been everything to him for a hundred and seventeen years, only it felt more like relief when she walked away from him. No second guessing her moods or trying to appease her. Just stillness and thoughts of his Bess.

He’d tasked one of the remaining minions with bringing Dru dinner so it wasn’t vital that he show up there before dawn. Maybe it was time he checked out that demon bar. Usually they sold bottled blood along with the booze. It’d save him the trouble of hunting and give him time to…think about what’d happened to him since he’d met the Slayer.

She’d been so achingly beautiful in the moonlight. Had it been a lie when she said she’d try and kill him the next time they were together? Her heart had tripped over itself, but he didn’t know if it had been in excitement, fear, or because she was lying through her teeth. The sound wouldn’t leave his mind; it was stuck on permanent replay.

His lips formed the words to her poem while he walked.

_And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain._


	9. Schist Happens

Our little group has always been

             -Nirvana, “Smells Like Teen Spirit”

****

Monday morning was as bright and obnoxious as usual. School days already felt routine: get up, shower, fight with her closet to find reasonable clothes, eat breakfast, and walk to school. This morning Buffy’s goal, once she was actually through the big front doors of Sunnydale High, was to avoid Willow at all costs. At least until she’d thought of something clever to say. However, her attempts so far at trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for acting like a slut with the Big Bad had been less than successful.

So avoidance it was.

During the first part of the day Operation Evade Willow was a rousing success. Buffy didn’t go to her locker or the library, and any flash of red hair made her dash in the other direction. Lunch was a problem, but she solved it by hiding out in the bathroom for most of the forty-five minutes. Her choice of hiding place resulted in a near run-in with Cordelia that’d only been avoided by a last second sprint into one of the stalls. Standing on the toilet seat, she’d had to endure listening to Cordy gush about Devon to her groupies, one of which was Harmony. Buffy nearly gave herself away by thunking her head against the side of the stall. Stupid fucking Harmony. She was going to have to have a talk with Spike about that- as in no way, no how, not ever.  

Before she’d always thought that Spike being saddled with Harmony had just been some big cosmic joke. Now just thinking about him touching the vapid blonde was making her grind her teeth. Her fingernails dug into her palms and she was on the verge of tearing not only the stall door off its hinges but Harmony’s head from her body. The gaggle of girls left just as the last vestiges of her self-control were threatening to snap. 

“Mine, you bitch,” she snarled to the empty air. It took the rest of the break for her heartrate and breathing to calm back down.

****

After lunch there was no more avoiding Willow as their history class piled onto a yellow school bus for a field trip to the local museum. Buffy froze as she stepped onto the bus. Memories from the last time she’d been on one assaulted her. It took the student behind her physically knocking into her for her feet to be able to continue down the aisle to an open seat. Huddled up against the window she had to clasp her hands between her knees to keep them from shaking.

The fight in the cavern had been punctuated at the beginning and end by a school bus. Dread was slicing through her. Something bad was going to happen.

 _Ride a school bus; lose everything you love_.

Willow and Xander were sitting in the seat behind her. Buffy pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. Her hands were white-knuckled where they gripped her arms. The dark was yawning up under her. She was trying to keep her teeth from chattering when she noticed that Willow had changed seats and was now sitting next to her.

“Hey, you ok?” Willow asked, laying a warm and gentle hand on her arm.

“No.” Buffy scrunched herself into an even smaller ball. “I’m really not.”

“What’s wrong?” Xander hooked his arms over the back of the seat and leaned towards her.

“I d-don’t like school buses,” Buffy stammered. Her friends gave her confused looks. She grabbed Willow’s hand. “I really need to hear you say what’s going on right this minute and where we’re headed.” She swiveled her head back and forth. In her mind the past and present were blending together. One minute the bus was full of rowdy high school kids, the next it was all potential slayers she was leading to their doom, and then it was the wounded bodies of what remained of her friends and family as they fled the collapsing hellmouth. Buffy turned to look at Xander’s concerned face. “I’m not ok,” she said again.

Willow clutched her friend’s hand, her face settling into a resolute look. “Buffy, it’s Monday and you’re on a school bus for a field trip to the museum.” Buffy nodded. Xander gently placed his hands on her shoulders and scooted her over to the middle of the seat. Once there was enough room he vaulted over the back of the bench and squished in between her and the window. He put his arm around her shoulders. Buffy touched his face and the eyepatch melted away as he smiled at her, both eyes twinkling.

“So Buffy, why didn’t the skeleton attack the museum goers?” he asked. She shrugged. Xander raised one eyebrow and grinned ear to ear. “Because he had no guts!”

The girls groaned simultaneously. Then their eyes met and they started giggling. Buffy sagged against the seat as some of the panic ebbed away.  

Willow squeezed her hand again, “You’re on a bus for a field trip to a museum,” she whispered to Buffy.

“Thanks Willow.”

Xander gave her another squeeze as well. The dark and the past receded as her friends anchored her in the here and now.

The trip took less than thirty minutes, but to Buffy it felt like years. She bolted off the bus the second it rolled to a stop, gulping huge lungfuls of air as she waited on the others. As soon as they were inside the museum she grabbed Willow and Xander, pulling them away from the rest of the students.

"This isn't going to be a fun trip guys, there's something here we need to take care of." Buffy hoped they'd be willing to listen to her after her breakdown on the bus. Both of her friends had looks of rapt attention on their faces, so she mentally crossed her fingers. "The whole reason we came here is to see the Incan artifacts, and especially the mummy, right?" Two nods. "One guess what has a magical seal preventing it from becoming animated and sucking the life force out of a bunch of unsuspecting people."

"What's with bad guys and sucking stuff?" Xander huffed.

"Was that double entendre? Because eww." Buffy made a face at her friend, who flushed.

"I was not thinking that, which is weird since I'm a teen-aged guy. You’re the sole owner of that one, Buffy."

It was her turn to blush, because her mind had gone straight to a certain bad guy, and exactly what stuff she wanted to suck.

"If we're finished with being twelve.” Willow gave Buffy a meaningful look."We should figure out what we need to do."

Buffy squared her shoulders. "I have a plan. Mostly we need to make sure no one accidently breaks, chips, cracks, or even _looks_ at the seal too hard. Then when everyone's gone we break it and rip the mummy apart when it rises."

"So one of us is going to have to be in the room with the mummy pretty much the whole time?" Xander scuffed the toe of his shoe along a crack in the tile floor.

"Thanks for volunteering for first watch Xander!" Buffy enthused while patting his back. He groaned.  She fished a quarter out of her pocket. "I'm going to call Giles, then Willow and I will work our way through the exhibits so we’re at least appearing to do our assignment. At most it’ll be an hour before we switch, okay?"

"Got it, I'll go try to not look creepy while standing alone in a dark corner." Xander shouldered his backpack and headed off towards the special exhibits gallery that held the mummy.

The lobby payphones were tucked back behind an unmanned reception desk.

Buffy picked up the grimy receiver and frowned. "Damn it, Willow, do you have a dime? It's thirty-five cents now."

The redhead pulled out a handful of change. "Do two nickels work?”

Buffy dialed the Library office. "Hi Giles, it's me…Buffy. I'm on a payphone at the museum, that's probably why my voice sounds different.” She leaned against the wall. “No, everything's not ok, potential killer mummy…the kind Boris Karloff played…well it shouldn't surprise you, I like horror movies.” She twisted the phone cord around her fingers. “Can you bring a weapons bag, your car, and an excuse for me, Willow, and Xander to stay late?... Cool, see you in an hour or so." She hung up and turned to Willow. "Well, that's all set. You ready to go pretend to answer questions about both the Inca and the natural history of Sunnydale?"

"If by 'pretend to answer questions' you mean my best friend telling me why she turns into a…a…playboy bunny around a certain super bad vampire then sure, I'm all in." Willow crossed her arms as her eyes narrowed.

Buffy sighed, this would be so much easier if she could just tell Willow the truth, but her friend didn't deserve to have all that dropped in her lap. It was hard enough being a teenager on the hellmouth. This would be a non-issue if Spike had just managed to do what 'super bad vampires' were supposed to do. Buffy frowned, realizing that if he had she wouldn't be here to stop the mummy. Would her grieving friends have figured it out before an awful lot of people died? Maybe it was better that Halloween night would be the end point, she knew for a fact she wasn't needed then.

"Let’s start with the Geology of Sunnydale section." Buffy held up the worksheet they were supposed to be completing. "And I'll start dishing."

They wandered among the geology exhibits for a few minutes. With words like 'subduction,' 'uplift,' 'orogeny,' and 'bedding,' jumping at her from the information plaques, Buffy felt like she'd probably picked the wrong place to start. Her teenage hormones were driving her nuts.

Willow was looking at a series of metamorphic rocks. "This gneiss is nice," she giggled.

"What?" Trust Willow to come up with a joke Buffy would probably need a ten page diagram to understand.

"Nothing," the redhead said. "When does the explainy actual start?"

"I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

Willow shook her head, "Buffy, it's like you've totally gone crazy. Talk. Now."

"Right. Here goes…uh, how about you ask me questions?” Buffy looked at the ceiling, avoiding both Willow and thoughts about subduction leading to thrusting in bedding.

"Gah! Buffy! Fine, but if you don't answer I might hit you in the head with one of these rocks."

"I probably deserve it." Yup, ceiling. Ceilings are boring, nothing happened up there.

"So did you know he was a vampire at the Bronze when you were dancing with him?"

Crap this was going to be difficult. Buffy looked back at Willow, heaving another sigh. "Let’s go look at common sea birds of the California coast line." She headed towards the next room with Willow trailing along. "And yes, I knew he was a vampire. Heck, I knew he was Spike. He'd been watching me for a while that night, hunting me."

"While we were studying?" Willow sounded incensed.  Her hands scrunched the worksheet she was holding.

"I'm sure he got a laugh out of me butchering the French language."

"So why did you dance with him?"

"Initially just to let him know I was aware of what he was up to." The glass cases full of stuffed dead seabirds with dull glass eyes were creepy.

"So what happened?"

"I touched him…" she trailed off. Willow waited, scribbling down the answer to one of the questions on their worksheet. "I touched him and it was like every cliché that you can think of. Choirs of angels and all that."

Willow snorted "You touched a vampire and heard angels sing?"

"You know what I mean. So somehow it got hot and heavy real quick. I don't think either of us had any idea that was going to happen." She shivered at the remembered thrill. The technicolored reality had been so much better than her broken dreams.

"Was he, y'know, excited to see you? Vampires do get excited? Right?"

"Willow Rosenberg," Buffy admonished. "Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

Willow tilted her head so that her hair hid her blush. "Maybe?" she squeaked.

Covering her mouth, Buffy giggled. "I can't believe you!"

"You know I have to live vicariously through you until I get a honey of my own."

"Fine, fine." Buffy hauled Willow into a corner of the next room, which was full of information about the early industrialization of the area. She dropped her voice so Willow had to lean in to hear her. "Vampires can totally get 'excited' as you put it." Willow raised her eyebrows. "And, uh, I was grinding against his 'excitement' that night." Willow squealed and jumped, making Buffy giggle again.

"Girls." A teacher was giving them a stern look over the rim of her glasses.

Willow held up her paper: "We're just thrilled we got the answer to number seven. I've always wondered what year the first fish cannery opened here."

"Right, well, try to be excited a little more quietly." The teacher walked off, leaving Buffy and Willow to look at each other and dissolve into the quietest laughter they could manage.

When she could breathe again Buffy suggested they go switch out with Xander, who was glad to see them.

"What's the joke, ladies?"

"It's nothing.” Buffy looked over a Willow and the giggles started up again.

"Giles is on his way," Willow finally managed to get out. "Bring him here when you see him."

"Sure. Glad you two are enjoying this." He stomped off towards the Insects of the World exhibit.

The two girls sat on a bench with a clear view of the mummy's stone coffin, trying to look like they were working.

"So," Willow tapped her pencil against her cheek. "You said earlier you knew who Spike was right away? How?"

It was a tricky question, and one that she'd been hoping to avoid. Buffy worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Also, when we were researching Spike you put that book on my pile of research stuff. You knew it was the right one."

"You saw that, huh? I thought I was being all sneaky."

Willow pulled her knees up to sit cross-legged on the bench, facing Buffy. "You're lots of things, but sneaky isn't really one of them."

“I've been seeing him for a long time, in my dreams." How long were Slayer dreams going to remain a plausible excuse for everything? "I knew his name, and I looked him up in Giles' books. It was actually a big relief that he finally showed up."

"Do vampires dream?" Willow asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Maybe he's been dreaming about you too." Willow looked wistfully at her friend, and Buffy's stomach sank.

"Nah, he didn't know me at the Bronze." Buffy shifted uneasily on the bench. "Willow, we're not some star-crossed lovers. It's just animal lust. I know he hasn't killed me yet, but if you come across him or his minions you need to get away, fast. He's a vampire, you're dinner." Willow looked scared, which was good. "You'd be dead in seconds and he'd never even feel bad about it. He can't. Later he might wish he hadn't done it because I'd be ticked at him, but that's not exactly the same thing as regret."

"If I died you'd be ‘ticked’?" Willow stuck her tongue out at Buffy.

"Maybe even mildly annoyed."

"Well, now that I'm totally freaked out, what about Parent-Teacher Night?" Willow was looking back at her paper again, jotting down the response to another question.

"What about it?" Buffy asked. She'd abandoned even pretending to do her work. She'd have to get the answers from Willow later.

"I'm just wondering exactly what was going on when me and your mom showed up." Willow's 'don't you dare lie' face was back.

"For the record we really did start out fighting. Then we weren't. What did it look like was happening?" Buffy was hoping Willow being inexperienced would work in her favor, that she'd come up with 'kissing' or 'making out'.

"It looked like you were all over his 'excitement' again, plus your skirt was kind of hiked up. You guys didn't actually, like, do it, did you?" Willow's eyes were wide.

Buffy bit her lip "No, not…no. His jeans were still zipped. But…"

"But what?" Willow was leaning forward, lips slightly parted.

"I can't believe I'm telling you this."

“That's what friends are for."

Buffy put her hands over her face so she didn't have to see Willow's reaction. "His fingers might have been doing…things, under my skirt."

Willow let out another squeal and Buffy could feel her bounce on the bench. "Over or under your underwear?"

"Willow!"

The redhead pouted. "You promised to answer."

Had she? "I had a g-string on, so it's not like anything was covered." Buffy risked peeking through her fingers, Willow was grinning ear to ear. Buffy let her hands drop back to her lap. "Seriously, when you have a boyfriend, the instant he pretend-accidentally touches your boob you better drop everything and call me."

"Of course," Willow nodded."If I don't die a crazy old cat lady. Now back to you. So like how much touching are we talking?" Buffy cringed, but at the same time she was enjoying herself because this felt like a very normal, best friend thing to do. Willow had never asked for details about her night with Angel, probably for the obvious reason. By the time they got to college they'd already grown far enough apart that there was no dishing, especially when Tara came along and Willow might have felt that Buffy would be weird about things. She probably would have been, which bothered Buffy immensely. Willow was her best friend; they should be able to tell each other everything.

"Lots and lots of touching, he's really good. I was so hot by the time he put his finger inside I just totally, well, got off." Buffy felt herself go beet red.

"Buffy!" Willow exclaimed. "Really?"

"Really, really."

"Wait, while we're all thinking that we're going to die any minute you're getting fingerbanged by a vampire?"

"Thanks for boiling it down. Anyway, how many people died?"

"None," Willow admitted. "So when are you going to see him next?”

"Already did.” Buffy admitted. Willow made a choking noise and dropped her pencil. "Wait!” Buffy leaned over a retrieved the pencil. She handed it back to her flustered friend “It was during patrol Saturday night. No touching, he just gave me a book."

"Spike gave you a book? Did we fall into a different dimension or something?"

Buffy chuckled. "Something like that. It's a poetry book. He said something to me on Thursday and I didn't get it, so he felt duty bound to educate me. I don't know when I'll see him again. Willow…” She grabbed her friend's arm and pointed out a lone boy that was heading towards the mummy.

Buffy stood up. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?" The guy was startled and backed away, hands up.

"I wasn't doing anything!" he protested.

"Sure you weren't. By the way, do you have braces?"

"Uh, yeah. What's it to you?" The guy was continuing to move towards the exit.

"Nothing. Now scram before I don't do anything to you!" Buffy crossed her arms and sent him a look that would have made demons tremble. The boy turned and ran, heading right past Xander and Giles who were walking in with a weapons bag and a few books in their hands.

"Fill me in, Buffy," Giles said, setting the bag down next to her.

"Inca mummy girl. Sacrificed by her people, kept at bay by a cursed seal, sucks people's life energy. The usual." Buffy shrugged.

"Curses! Why'd it have to be curses!" Xander pulled a face and pretended to be choking himself.

"Nice one, Indy.” Buffy patted his back. She hoped that she wasn't taking too much from him, but the mummy killed a lot of people. She couldn't just turn a blind eye and let it happen. _Spike kills…_ no don't go there. That was different, way with the different.

"Since you seem to know all about this, Buffy, what do we need to do?" Giles set the books he was carrying next to her on the bench.

"We grab the seal, step back so she can't grab us, break it, and then hack the mummy to bits like so much kindling. Then we run away and hope we don't get arrested for destroying museum property." Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, preparing to defend her plan. Only everyone, including Giles, nodded in agreement.

"Sounds doable," Xander said, walking over and opening the weapons bag. "What can I get everyone? We have a full buffet of deadly implements for your slaying pleasure today."

"Blunt is probably better than edged, it doesn't need to be anything special like silver or wood." Buffy walked up the risers to the coffin and carefully removed the seal from the mummy's grasp. She handed it to Willow. "Take it to the corner and when I say so, smash it."

"Got it."

"Mace?" Xander asked, holding out the haft to her.

"That'll work." Buffy swung it a few times to make sure she had a good feel for the weight.

Giles pulled a short sword from the bottom the bag, removing it from the scabbard and going to stand at the other end of the platform. Xander grabbed a wooden baseball bat that must have barely fit in the bag. He stood behind Buffy, the bat held ready.

"Everyone ready? Let's go. Willow, smash it!" The sound of the ceramic shattering was ominous. They didn't have to wait long. A withered hand grasped the side of the stone coffin and the mummy pulled itself up, stumbling over the side of its tomb. Standing on at the top of the stairs its skull turned this way and that, settling on Buffy.

Slowly, it lurched down the steps, arms reaching for the slayer. Buffy went for an easy slam to the chest, but the mummy surprised her and dodged at the last minute, grabbing her arm."Oh, gross! It's called moisturizer!"

The creature lunged towards her face, trying to initiate its power to drain her. "Xander!" she cried, and then she ducked in case his aim was off, but he didn't disappoint. He swung the bat hard and the dry bones of the mummy gave way. The head sailed up to land back in the coffin. Decapitated, the rest of the body fell to the ground and crumbled. Buffy ran up and pulverized the head as well, just in case.

Giles was already sliding his unused sword back into its sheath. "Let's hurry, this is when we make our escape and thank the Powers that the museum budget in Sunnydale doesn't include security cameras.” The weapons went back into the bag and the Scoobies walked as quickly as they dared to the nearest exit, blinking as they came out into the late afternoon sunshine.

Xander suddenly jumped up, punching the air. "Did you see that? I totally kicked that thing's butt!"

Buffy laughed. "Did you ever! Swing batter, batter, batter!" She chanted, giving Xander a high five.

"That was awesome Xand-man," Willow said. "All I did was break a decorative plate."

"Hey, thanks to all of you for making sure that that particular mummy will not be getting a sequel." Buffy felt giddy until she remembered that they'd be riding home in Giles’ car. "I don't suppose you've been thinking about getting something in red, have you?" she asked him as they piled in.

"No, there's nothing wrong with a classic."

At least it wasn't the bus.

****

The next day Buffy told her mom she might be running late after school. The book Spike had given her had come from one of Sunnydale’s small used bookstores. The name and address of the shop had been stamped into the front of the book, and she felt compelled to go and take a look. Just in case.

The store was located a block from UC Sunnydale on a treelined side street. She took the lack of crime scene tape on the door to be a good sign. There was a little trolley with books piled on it outside the door, an open sign in the window, and the distinct absence of the smell of death. Buffy hugged her book to her chest and opened the door. There was a ding from a bell above the door as she entered, and an elderly gentleman walked out from the back. What was left of his grey hair stuck up in all directions, his sweater vest appeared older than Buffy, and a pair of reading glasses threatened to fall off his nose.

“Can I help you miss?” he wheezed.

“Um, yes.” She held the book up. “I was wondering if you could tell me about the man who bought this, or if I need to pay for it?”

The shop owner gave her a toothy smile, “Well, I’ll be. Hang on one moment.” He held a finger up and turned his head. “Mabel!” He yelled. “Mabel, come on out here! You’re going to want to see this!” A small, thin woman with hair nearly as wild as her husband’s joined him at the counter.

“What is it, Horace?” she asked, fumbling to get her glasses on.

“You remember that punk kid that was in here a day or two ago who bought the poetry book? I thought you’d like to know you were right.” He waved in Buffy’s general direction.

“See, what did I tell you?” Mabel said, lightly slapping her husband’s arm. “Isn’t she a peach?”

“He did pay for it, right?” Buffy asked.

Horace nodded. “Oh, he stalked around for a bit, looked like he wanted to pocket it and take off. Didn’t know I was watching him like a hawk.”

“Very good eyes, my Horace,” Mabel added.

“When he brought it up to the counter it looked like being a proper citizen disagreed with him. He about jumped out of his skin when I asked him why he didn’t steal it.” Horace took a moment to cackle at the memory.

“You know what he told my Horace?” Mabel asked. Buffy shook her head. “He says, ‘The girl wouldn’t like it’.”

“Then I knew what was wrong with that poor boy!” Horace said, picking up the thread of the story. “So I say to him ‘This a present for a girl, is it?” and he acts like he wants to deny it, but then he just says ‘yeah.’ So I charge him half what I ought to have. Boy like that, used to being all full of himself, deserves a little break when love up and bites him in the behind.” He patted his wife’s arm affectionately.

Mabel smiled up at him, “After he’s gone I says to my Horace: ‘Boy dressed like that buying a girl a poetry book, you can bet she’s the sweetest thing on earth.  And now here you are, and I see I was right. Bad boy and good girl, that’s a very old story.”

Buffy blushed.  “I’m guessing sometimes that bad boy even settles down and buys a bookstore,” she said.

The older couple beamed at her.

“One last thing.” Mable waved her closer, and Buffy leaned across the counter. “Be gentle with the boy, he’s trying for you. He loves you so much he probably can’t see straight, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

“I will. Thank you two so much, you’ve made my day.” She gave them a big smile and headed for the door. Before leaving she turned to give them a good-bye wave and they smiled and waved back. Buffy nearly expected them to tell her to have fun storming the castle.

The door jingled closed behind her, and she walked down the sidewalk, headed towards home. It was a lot to think about. Spike had done something based on how he thought she’d feel about it. He shouldn’t be doing anything like that, at least not for a very long time. It was sweet. She wished she could tell him that, but she knew he’d hate it.

Her mind kept circling back around to the fact that he’d paid for the book and left the book shop owners alive because he thought it would upset her if he did otherwise. Buffy tightened her grip on the book. It seemed all the more precious now knowing he’d gone not only out of his way to get it for her, but also that he’d gone against his nature. It made her insides feel all warm.

Buffy shoved her hands in her coat pockets. It was too bad that the sun was still shining brightly. The walk home was less exciting since there was no chance of her running into her vampire.

 


	10. Dreaming

It's time to face my weakness

                -Mindy McCready, "Ten Thousand Angels"

****

Buffy sat bolt upright in bed. She was sweating and the sheets were tangled around her. Her heart was pounding a sharp staccato rhythm in her chest. Her hand burned. In the dim light she held it up in front of her face, but the skin was smooth and unblemished. All the pain was inside.

 

Time wasn't healing squat. Night after night she was back in Sunnydale under the school watching and feeling Spike burn. Hearing him deny her love again and again. She could change nothing.  Like Prometheus she was ripped open every night, only to appear whole again when she walked out of her room each morning. The world was safe, but she wasn't.

 

Something between a scream and a sob erupted from deep down in her chest. Buffy turned over on her stomach, face smashed into her pillow while her sadness consumed her.

 

The door to her room burst open, startling her and making her flinch. She looked at the intruder through tearlurred eyes. “Mommy?” Her voice was tremulous.

 

Joyce sat down next to her, a comforting hand on her daughter’s back. “What's wrong sweetheart?”

 

“I had a nightmare,” Buffy whimpered.

 

“Shh, it’s okay now.” Joyce rubbed her hand soothingly along Buffy’s spine. “I’m here and it’s okay.”

 

It took a while for her adrenaline to ebb and for reality to come crashing back in. Sunnydale, 1997, Spike alive and just on the other side of town. The urge to fling the covers off and run to him was almost unbearable. But it wouldn’t be her Spike. He wouldn’t tilt his head to the side and look at her with love and adoration. He’d be fangs and death, and her heart screamed out for that as well, but she couldn’t stand seeing his eyes empty. Not tonight.

 

“I’m fine, Mom, you can go back to bed now.” Buffy tried to smile. Joyce kissed the top of her head and left, closing the door behind her. After a moment Buffy reached down and pulled the poetry book out from between the bed and her nightstand. She hugged it to herself.

 

Things weren’t the same, her life wasn’t on instant replay.

 

Maybe…

 

No, Halloween. Stick with the plan. She’d sacrifice herself and leave the world and those she loved better for it.

 

****

 

Sleep was still eluding her twenty minutes later.

 

What she was planning kept teasing her mind. She wanted to fantasize about it, dwell in it, drown in it.

 

In the last few months she’d become proficient at escaping into her own mind. Every last daydream revolved around Spike, but they were never the naughty kind. That part of her had gone to sleep. She’d thought it'd died, until she’d landed back at The Bronze. No great mystery as to why her libido had decided to wake up roaring.

 

Buffy groaned, turning over on the bed, the book a hard lump against her chest. This was certainly not how she had ever imagined her life playing out. The single most persistent fantasy she’d harbored was the brief one that spilled out of her mind each and every time someone would knock on her door. In it she'd open the door and Spike would be standing there. She didn't care how or why, just that he was there. They’d stare at each other, then she’d invite him in. As soon as the door was closed she'd launch herself into his arms. He'd hold her close and tell her that he believed her, even though he’d said otherwise, and that belief had given him the strength to find a way back to her. That was as far as the fantasy went, since she’d have to eventually actually open the door and it'd only be Xander, Dawn, or some random new Slayer on the other side.

 

Xander had even said something to her once about how she perpetually looked pissed when she answered the door. Buffy had shrugged it off, saying there were so many new girls and new problems that she just assumed any knock was from someone wanting her help with the latest crisis.

 

At least being here meant she could stop waiting for Spike to come back to her.

 

Halloween. When she'd actually been sixteen Spike had terrified her that night. He'd been the big bad that'd almost killed her. Now her mind played tricks on her, the memory of near death becoming retrospectively charged with a kaleidoscope of emotions.

 

Buffy wondered if Angel ever thought of that night, when he'd been forced to stand by, helpless as Spike had bent over her body. It was one of a million things, big and small, that Angel and she had never really talked about.  

 

This time there'd be no witnesses, no one to stop Spike, not even her.

 

Memory and fantasy combined behind her eyelids. The smell of sawdust and oil. Her fear at being locked in her body, unable to do anything but tremble. Spike had called her a lost lamb, which she guessed made him the big bad wolf.

 

 _I'm going to eat you all up_ …

 

Ah, there were her hormones.

 

Her fingers were too warm and soft as she pushed the wet crotch of her underwear aside. Rubbing circles over her swollen clit with one hand she used the other to pinch and roll a hardened nipple through the fabric of her shirt. The poetry book rested heavily on her stomach.

 

Spike’s body had been cold and unyielding above hers. Buffy tried to remember every nuance of that contact, but her fear at the time made the memories hazy now. Had it been arousing to have the Slayer completely at his mercy? If he’d been rubbing himself against her she'd been too innocent and scared at the time to realize it.

 

Screw memory. In her mind Spike was rubbed his hard-on, still in his pants, against her stomach. Buffy transformed herself from frightened victim to willing sacrifice. Feeling extra wicked she let Angel stay. He could watch them. A jolt of lust accompanied the thought, though she didn't know if it was from a buried exhibitionist kink or just because she got a thrill from rubbing her relationship with Spike in Angel’s face.

 

The flimsy pink costume dress tore easily under Spike’s hands, and she imagined the hand on her breast was his. Her dream lover was already vamped out, knowing what she wanted. He pushed her frilly skirt up around her waist, his hand icy as his fingers sought her hot core. Finding her wet and ready he unzipped his pants and mounted her. She couldn’t fill herself with her own fingers the same way his cock did, and her hand’s movements weren’t as satisfying as being fucked by his entire body. Still, the image of him pounding into her while her legs were locked him was nearly enough to get her there.

 

She bit her lip and rubbed harder at her clit, working her fingers frantically inside herself. The need to cum had consumed her and she whimpered in frustration as completion eluded her. She needed something else. In her mind Spike reared back for a moment, fangs gleaming, and then he struck. The bite was hard and painful. He continued to fuck her as he pulled mouthfuls of blood out of her ravaged neck. Death reached for her, soft and warm. Buffy’s hips bucked up off the bed and she muffled a cry. Her hands fell to her sides as she lay there panting.

 

Oh, god. She’d just gotten off on her own death.

 

That was…

 

She should…

 

Sitting up she turned her bedside light on and retrieved the poetry book from where it’d fallen on the bed next to her hip. She opened it to her poem and started reading the lines she’d already memorized.

 

Morning was still a long way off.

****

School days were never ending. Buffy sat in English, trying to take notes, but mostly just doodling in the margins. Pretending to be her normal self was exhausting, but she’d made it this far and she only had a little longer to go, Halloween wasn't that many days away. She wanted her mom and friends to remember her as mostly regular, so she sat through class after endless class.

Walking with Willow afterwards, the redhead turned to look at her. "You doing okay Buffy? You seem kind of out of it."

"Just tired I guess." She shrugged. "Sleeping and me have kind of been unmixy lately, and when I do sleep it seems to be nothing but dreams."

Willow gave her an appraising look. "Do any of these dreams involve a certain platinum blonde vampire?"

"Maybe.” Buffy looked down at the notebooks in her hands.

"And what's happening in these dreams?"

"Stuff," Buffy said. That was as much as her friend was getting. Let her think they were fun, sexy dreams, not Buffy watching someone she loved die over and over again while he denied her heart. "Anyway, I have to go meet Giles in the Library so he can tell me how much I suck or something, I'll catch you and Xander later so we can do the disinvite spell. Sound good?"

"It's good." Willow held up an old book from top of the pile she was carrying. "I've been going over it and we should be able to cast it no problem."

"You're the best!" Buffy gave her friend a quick hug before heading to find her Watcher.

****

After school Buffy found herself sitting outside, trying to avoid Giles and part two of his lecture on how she wasn't applying herself well enough. The whole situation was giving her major Déjà Vu that went beyond the continuous sense of been there, done that, she walked around with constantly.  She just couldn’t remember what the next baddie was that she’d had to face. There’d been so many and her only clue, Giles being cranky over how she was performing her duties as Slayer, had been just too common an occurrence for her to narrow down what might be about to happen.

Still, it was really hard to ignore the impending sense of doom that hovered over her.  

Xander and Willow joined her as she sat on the steps leading down to the parking lot.

Willow frowned at Buffy, "Aren't you supposed to be in the Library doing your homework?"

"Probably," Buffy agreed, "but right now I'm scoping out Cordelia." She pointed to where the brunette was loitering by the bottom of the stairs.

"Well, this is fun, stalking the wild bitch in her native habitat." Xander leaned against the railing of the stairs, his eyes on the cheerleader.

Huh, so there had been signs. She’d just been dense to notice them.  

"So what's on for tonight after we make your house Angel-proof?" Willow asked, shuffling through her notes.

"More fun with cable?" Buffy suggested, keeping an eye on Cordy as a black BMW pulled up to the curb. She could almost put her finger on what was happening. Cordelia flipped her hair back and leaned down to talk to the driver. Her obnoxious laugh filtered back up the stairs. Buffy snapped her fingers. Now she remembered! There’d been that stupid scaly demon that the frat boys worshiped. How could she have forgotten that one?

"Oh boy, a party." Hadn’t there been a bracelet involved in all of this? Maybe she’d turned left instead of right on patrol last night and had missed it. Or was it tonight she found it? Not like it mattered, she didn’t need it to work out what was going on.

"What party?" Willow frowned up at her.

“The frat party I'm about to be asked to."

Cordelia stomped up the stairs in a huff, stopping in front of Buffy and grabbing her arm. "Come on, Richard and his fraternity brother want to meet you."

She wiggled her eyebrows at her friends and followed Cordy down to the curb.

The clean-cut young man in the passenger seat of the BMW was staring at her. He hastily got out once she reached the sidewalk next to the car, coming around the front to talk to her. The earnest young face and style of haircut reminded her uncomfortably of Riley. It made her want to smash his nose in, but instead she smiled winningly up at him. 

Time to be flirty.

****

The disinvite had been as easy to do as Buffy remembered, but Willow fairly glowed with pride at having accomplished it. While she didn’t want to diminish her friend’s ego, Buffy made a mental note to ask Giles or Ms. Calendar about formal training for Willow.  It couldn’t be too early to help her friend learn how to control her not inconsiderable talents.

“Tomato soup and grilled cheese for dinner?”  Willow asked, closing the spell book.

“Sure.” Buffy looked over to where Xander was sitting on her couch, reading a TV guide. “Do mind taking care of it? I’d kind of like to talk to Xander for a moment.” 

Willow nodded. “I can totally be a kitchen witch.”  She headed towards the back of the house, humming under her breath.

Xander dropped the magazine on the coffee table as Buffy sat next to him.

“What’s up, Buffster?” He casually leaned against the arm of the couch but his fingers fluttering against the rough fabric gave him away. He was nervous around her.

“I think we need to talk about something.”

“Uh, What?”

“The reason you’re staring over the top of my head instead of looking me in the eyes right now.”

His gaze dropped back to her face and his fingers tapped faster.

“I’m not blind, Xander, and even if I was I’d probably still be able to see it. I know you at least think you love me as more than a friend.”

“Ah, well…” He shifted so his knees were pointing at her, but looked at the floor. “It’s a little more than think.”

“No, it’s think, Xander.” She reached out and grabbed his hand. “You’re my friend, one of my best friends, nearly my brother. We’re close and that can get confusing, and I don’t want it to be.”

Xander looked up and met her eyes, his shoulders squared.

“I don’t have romantic feeling for you. I never will. It’s not because there’s a single thing wrong with you, it’s because I’m the Slayer and there’s a heck of a lot wrong with me.”

“What? There’s nothing wrong with you!”

“I’m glad at least one of us thinks so. I can’t do normal.” Buffy sighed and let go of Xander. She leaned against the back of the couch. “I really, really can’t do normal.”

“Spike’s not normal.” Willow was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Buffy threw her arm over her eyes and groaned.

“Spike?” Xander squeaked.

“Yeah, isn’t she telling you how that was Bronze guy?”

“Buffy!” Xander had jumped to his feet.

“That wasn’t what I was talking to him about,” Buffy said from under her elbow.

“Oh, I’ll just go check on the soup then. No one likes burned soup.”

Buffy peeked out from under her arm at Xander.

“So Angel wasn’t cutting it?” He looked lost.

“It’s really complicated.” Buffy sat up

“Couldn’t you have picked someone with better hair?”

“I…hey, there’s nothing wrong with his hair.”

“Sure, if it was 1985.”

“It’s not like I’m dating him,” she grumbled, standing up next to her friend.

Xander sagged a little, then took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m still jealous and would kind of like to punch him in the face, but…”

She put her hands on her hips and waited.

“But I think I can get over myself, and at least he isn’t Angel.”  He smiled and Buffy chuckled. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

“Okay, but for the last time: I’m not dating Spike.” She hugged herself, cringing internally. It was going to wound Willow and Xander when she died. They’d blame themselves for not keeping her away from Spike. She really should have kept her hands to herself. “Let go chow down before Willow thinks we’ve forgotten her.”

They walked into kitchen and Willow looked up from the sandwich she was grilling. “Did you tell him about how you’ve been dreaming about Spike for, like, ever?”

“Willow!”

****

The fraternity party had been a lot less exciting and grown-up than her past self had believed. It had just been sad and full of people so desperate to belong that they’d lost all sense of right and wrong. Getting herself free and slaying the snake demon had also been different than she remembered. Mostly it’d been a whole lot easier. Probably because she’d avoided being roofied this time around, though she wondered if the poor houseplant she’d poured her drink into would survive.

Duty completed she was alking home with Xander, Willow, and Angel, who’d been her backup. Completely unnecessary back up, but better safe than sorry. Cordelia’s dad, or maybe her butler, had shown up in an expensive car and whisked her away. The night air was chilly enough to make Buffy pull her coat tight around her.

Angel was walking next to her and kept glancing over. He’d open his mouth like he was going to say something, only to snap it closed again. His shoulders were hunched and he had his hands jammed in his pockets.

After the tenth time of watching him do his goldfish impression Buffy had had it. “If you’re going to say something, just do it.”  His eyes darted to Willow and Xander. “You guys go ahead, we’ll catch up.” She waved in their direction as she halted and turned towards Angel.

He was looking down at her, his face unreadable.

“I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I’m grumpy. Out with it.”

He sighed. “Buffy, what is going on? You didn’t tell Giles about the fact you were going after a major demon tonight and you left me, Willow, and Xander skulking around the bushes in case you needed backup.”

“I’d think you’d be used to that. The lurking in the bushes part.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.

“You’re good at it. You spy on me instead of help! I already have one Watcher and I don’t need a creepy vampire stalker.”

Angel rocked back on his heels. “I…what?” Buffy’s face fell. He didn’t even realize what he was doing, it was just second nature to his demon. His hands were out of his pockets but he didn’t seem to know what to do with them. Finally, he crossed his arms. “I help you.”

“Whispered words in the dark and notes left in my room while I’m sleeping are not help.”

He pursed his lips. “Look, Buffy, are you trying to tell me that you wish I spent more time with you?” Her eyebrows shot up. That was not what he was supposed to get out of this conversation. Angel reached one hand towards her, the lines of his face softening. “Buffy,” he breathed.

She thought she might be sick. Sixteen-year-old her had been really stupid. She took a step back, out of his reach.

Angel’s eyelids lowered and he was still for a moment as he struggled with something internally. His hand fell back to his side. “I’m just trying to protect you. This could get out of control.”

“This?”

“This isn’t some fairy tale-”

“Angel, stop right there.” She stomped down the urge to laugh at the confused look he was giving her. “There is no ‘this’. All I’m saying is that it would be nice if sometimes on patrol you wanted to come out of the bushes and actually fight the demons alongside me. That’d be cool. We could talk about the weather or the price of milk or something. I didn’t mean dating.”

“You don’t want to have a date?” He was making puppy-dog eyes at her, which she was pleased to find she was completely immune to.

“No. Actually I’m sort of seeing someone right now.” She turned away from him to watch traffic passing through the intersection at the end of the street they were on. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

A harsh grip on her arm made her spin back around, Angel’s face was inches from hers. Gold swirled amidst the usual brown of his eyes and the line of his jaw was tight.  “Who?”

Buffy’s stomach lurched. She’d never seen Angel like this. Her hands fumbled for a stake but came up empty. She’d gone unarmed to the party in order to remain inconspicuous. Panic gripped her and she shoved him away with her full strength. They both landed on their backsides. She scrambled to her feet, breathing hard as she shifted herself into a fighting stance.

Angel didn’t move. His face was turned away from her. Slowly she relaxed and picked her way across the sidewalk to stand beside him. The sounds of the distant traffic filtered through the night. Somewhere a dog barked.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, but kept his face hidden.

Buffy felt something tug at her heart. She’d loved this man once. “Hey.” She reached out and placed the palm of her hand on his cheek, turning him towards her. Softly, she ran her thumb over the bumps on his forehead. The demon receded under her touch.

“Do you love him?” Angel’s voice was bitter. He caught her hand and held it between his own. The question caught her off guard. She’d loved Spike at the end, she still loved the man that’d died for her, but the Spike she’d seen in the cemetery more than a week ago wasn’t the same vampire. History had changed and Spike had changed with it. Did she love the man who’d handed her the poetry book?

She frowned, fingers tight on the sleeves of her jacket. “I don’t know.”

He squeezed her hand. “Good.”

“Green isn’t your color, Angel.” She stepped back and helped him to his feet. He shoved his hands back into his pockets and glanced around like he didn’t know what to do with himself.  Buffy took pity on him. “C’mon, you dolt, walk a girl home? You can practice that thing friends do where they stroll next to each other and talk.”

She headed towards home and he fell into step next to her.

“So,” he said after a minute. “It’s a little cooler than normal for this time of year, don’t you think?”  

****

"Rewind it again," Spike demanded, cuffing the minion on the back of the head. He watched Buffy easily dispatch the fledgling vamp he'd sent after her. She made it look effortless. As the dust blew away on the wind the Slayer turned to look right at the camera and winked. Spike froze the playback, enchanted. His Bess bloody well knew she was being taped, and by whom, and apparently was enjoying showing off for him. It made his fangs itch.

"Minx," he whispered.

"Dude," the minion said."She's a tight little package. Too bad she's the Slayer, because I'd totally fuck her in the ass."

White hot anger seared through Spike with a corresponding throb from his chest. No one talked about his girl that way. He grabbed the minion's greasy hair with one hand and chin with the other, giving a violent yank that tore the vamp's head clean off. The two pieces crumbled to dust, leaving Spike huffing unneeded breaths.

"Temper, Temper, sweet Spike." Drusilla drifted towards him. "If you kill all the wedding guests, who's going to drive us to the party?"

He shook off his demon and gathered Dru into his arms. "Don't rightly know, poodle. Good help is hard to find." He nuzzled her neck and planted soft kisses along her jaw.

Drusilla trailed her fingers over his chest. "I had a vision.” She pouted up at him, eyelashes fluttering.

"Mmm.” Spike picked her up, twirled her around once to make her clutch at him and squeal, then sat in the recently vacant chair with Dru straddling him. He caught a glimpse of Buffy, whose video was still frozen on the screen. The shard in his chest lurched to life, but he quickly quelled it and turned his back on the monitors. "Tell Spike all about your lovely vision, princess."

"On Halloween the Slayer's friends will be busy, busy, busy. There's someone new in town.” She tapped her forefinger hard against him with each word. Spike grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers to stop her.

“Likes to play dirty, does he?”  He worked his way down her palm, flicking his tongue over her wrist.

“All inside out and upside down.” She smiled dreamily at him, her other hand flittering down to grab his waist. He caught her arm and brought it back up, biting lightly at the soft skin on the inside of her elbow. Dru mewed and wriggled in his lap.

“Anything else, kitten?”

“You will taste the Slayer’s blood,” Drusilla cooed.

“Will I now?” He left off his ministrations to her arm, bringing up both hands to hold her face.  “Best news all day. I’ll bring you back a fine present to make you strong.”

Smiling at his dark princess he brought her face down to his, capturing her mouth with a kiss. Her lips softened, and Spike swirled his tongue gently around hers. Suddenly he had a lap full of hissing vampire as Dru’s demon came out. She jumped off him, pushing the chair back hard against the desk behind them.

“What the bloody hell?” He sprang to his feet, trying to grab a snarling Drusilla.

She moved backwards to avoid him. “You taste of ashes,” she growled. “The Slayer has killed you. Can’t you feel how you burn?” Again she slapped his hands away.

Spike collapsed back into the chair, dropping his head into his hands. “Drusilla,” he cried against his palms.

“Spike.” She walked back over to him. He grabbed her hand, clinging to it like a child as he slipped from the chair onto his knees at her side.  She was his Sire, she was everything, without her he didn’t know who he was. Sod the pain in his chest that was screaming otherwise.

Drusilla knelt down beside him. With a snarl she wrenched her hand free of his grasp and gripped his chin. She forced Spike to look up at the screen where Buffy’s image remained frozen. Slowly she extended on sharp fingernail, pointing at the Slayer’s picture. “All hers now.”

“Never,” he gasped, knowing even as he said it that he was lying. The Slayer had infected him, her smell and taste, the infuriating way her lips said death and her body screamed life. He wanted to go to her, hold her, never let her go. He slammed his fist into the floor. That wasn’t him. It couldn’t be.

“You are covered in her,” Drusilla said, then collapsed, weeping. Spike was barely able to keep her from landing on the floor.

He stood, pulling the sobbing vampiress along with him. “Oh, poodle, don’t cry.”

Clutching his forearms, she continued to let the tears run unheeded down her cheeks. “Miss Edith needs her tea,” she sniffed.

Spike folded her into a hug. “We’ll take care of her, luv, quiet now. Shhh.” Gently, he rocked her back and forth, all the while staring over her shoulder at the image of the Slayer. He’d taste her blood alright, he’d open her throat and make a sodding fountain he could bathe in. Sorrow and anger, more than pain, radiated out from his chest. Snarling, he struggled with the spark, pushing away its influence. Abruptly it turned off. That was better. He was done hurting over the girl. It was time for her to feel the pain.

 

 

 


	11. Halloween

I'm getting too close again

-Boston, "Amanda"

****

For the hundredth time Buffy wished she'd been able to bring Willow along costume shopping. There was no one to help her choose from the myriad of possibilities that lined the store’s shelves. Though, honestly, it wasn’t like she could very well ask her friend what Spike would like, or which outfit she'd make a better corpse in. Besides needing to be flattering, the outfit would also have to be something she could fight in.  She’d be facing Spike and whatever other ghouls and goblins came out of the woodwork.

There was the temptation of going as a sexy nurse, because, boy-howdy, that fantasy would not die.

_Doctor, this patient has no blood left!_

_I know nurse-_ growl _\- you should take your knickers off, luv. I need to give you a shot with a big needle._

_Oh Doctor! What a very big needle you have!_

"Buffy!"

"Wha…oh. Hi, Cordelia."  Just who she wanted to see- not.

"So what are you thinking about?" Cordelia asked, coming to stand next to her.

“Uh…w-w-hat?” Buffy stammered. Her cheeks were on fire.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “What costume are you thinking about wearing?”

_Oh, phew. Duh._

"I don't know, I can't decide. What about you?"

"A cat." Cordelia pointed out the outfit.

"Really?" Buffy said, putting all the disdain she could into the word.

"Something wrong with that?" Cordelia was too predictable. She neither liked nor respected Buffy, but still craved her approval.

Buffy studied her nails. "Well, I don't like that one, it’s kind of lame. That new shop, Ethan's, has an all-black cat costume that looks way better and is a one-of-a-kind."

Cordelia shrugged. "I'll check it out. Hey, how’d you manage to get out of ankle-biter duty?”

“Got lucky, I guess.” Actually, Buffy had been avoiding Snyder like the plague. There was no way she was spending her last night on earth taking kids trick-or-treating. “So what kind of costume can you see me wearing, Cordy?”

“One with a mask,” the brunette snarked.

“Fine,” Buffy said, moving away from the wall towards another rack. It wasn’t exactly like they were having a bonding moment.

“Hey,” Cordelia called after her. “Didn’t you want to be a cheerleader?”  

Buffy turned back to where Cordelia was looking at a package. “I was one before I moved to Sunnydale.” Buffy shook her head. That felt like a lifetime ago.

“How about this one then?” The brunette held up the costume she’d been looking at. ‘Zombie Cheerleader’ was printed across the top. The makeup the model was wearing was over the top, but the black costume itself was actually exactly what Buffy had been looking for.

“Cool! Thanks!” Buffy said, grabbing the bag. “It’s even in my size!” Cordelia was frowning at her, probably because it was supposed to be an insult. “If you can, try to come by my house after trick or treating is over, we’re going to have a little get together.”

“Why would I want to go to a lame revenge of the nerds party?”

Buffy couldn’t even be angry with her for the jab, not when she knew so much of Cordelia’s future. Instead Buffy gave her a sly look. “Angel’s supposed to be there.”

“Well, maybe I’ll stop by for a few.”

_Bingo!_

 Buffy smiled at Cordelia. “Looking forward to it.”  

Heading to the front to pay, Buffy was waylaid by a display of seasonal ribbons. She grabbed a black, satiny one and ran the end through her fingers. It’d be perfect. She added it to her shopping basket and continued to the register. As she unloaded the items onto the belt she saw Cordelia heading out of the store without a bag. Hopefully she was heading to Ethan’s. Served the bitch right.

****

The actual day of Halloween was turning out to be a lot trickier than Buffy had thought it would be. Trying to make sure things occurred mostly the same and not outing herself as a time traveler was making her miserable. Willow needed to be pushed far enough to wear Buffy’s borrowed clothes since she ended up getting such a boost to her confidence from them and Buffy didn’t want to take that away from her. However, Buffy still needed Willow to end up as a ghost so the mystery would be solved and Ethan Rayne’s plans thwarted. She struggled to find the balance so that Willow would end dressed the same as she remembered.

The cheerleader costume was working out just like she’d wanted it to, especially after the few adjustments she’d made with a pair of scissors, like cutting out the thin material in the middle so that most of her stomach and back would be bare. The black pantyhosetyle stockings had also gone in the trash, Buffy instead going for a pair of low heeled boots and ankle socks. Willow had helped her secure her hair into two high pigtails, wrapping the black ribbon around the bases and tying perky bows. She was going with dramatic make-up: smoky eyes with thick black eye-liner accompanied by bright red lipstick.

Once her look was complete, Buffy, holding another length of ribbon, walked into the room where Willow was getting ready. The redhead was staring at herself in the mirror. “You look fine,” Buffy said for the umpteeth time. “Here, can you help me tie this around my neck?” Willow took the ribbon and looped it around her friend’s throat.

“Do you want a bow on this too?” Willow asked.

“Yes, please…a little tighter. Perfect. Thanks Willow.” Buffy looked in the mirror, turning the ribbon so the bow was to the side, right over her carotid artery. Nothing was coming to her at the moment, but hopefully she could invent a great quip when the moment was right. Something about Christmas coming early…no, that sounded vaguely dirty.  Packages wrapped up with…no, that did too. The doorbell rang and she rushed down to get it.

“Xander!” she greeted her friend. Her 18th century girl outfit had made him babble, but her cheerleader costume rendered him speechless. The poor boy was gaping like a fish. Buffy had to drag him inside the front door by his arm. “Get a grip,” she told him, irritation in her voice.

“Are you going out like that?” he finally managed to say.

“Are you my dad now?”

“No, sorry.” Xander looked like he wanted to say more, but he clamped his lips together.

Buffy shrugged one shoulder. “It’s Halloween. The traditional day of girls dressing slutty. Wait till you see Willow!” She raised her voice and called up to her friend. “Willow, Xander’s here.” Buffy nearly fainted in relief when Willow came downstairs in her ghost costume. That was the last piece that needed to fall into place, freeing her to pursue her own agenda.

They’d all be fine, learn their lessons, and come out better on the other side. Buffy had been less than useless the last time around, so she didn’t need to be there to hold anyone’s hand. Though if someone did get hurt, she’d never get over it. But-oh, yeah- she’d never know. There was no way Spike would let her walk away this time. The plan was find him, fight him to get him worked up, and offer him her giftrapped neck.  Easy peasy.

Xander was still regarding her like she was nuts. “Look, I know I don’t have a say-”

“You’re right, you don’t. I’m going to head downtown to patrol. The costume is my cover, if anyone asks why I’m out I can tell them I’m going to or coming from a party.”

“Right,” he said. “Are you planning on scaring the demons away by jumping out of a cake?”

“You’re hilarious.” She patted him on the shoulder. “I shouldn’t run into any problems; Halloween is like demon vacation day.”

“Well, be careful anyway.” Willow gave Buffy a little wave.

“You guys too! I’ll see you later tonight.” Lies, lies, and more lies. She hoped they’d forgive her.

****

Spike stood in the shadows of the alleyway, arms crossed, watching her. She’d easily dispatched the pirate who’d tried to grab her by knocking him out with an uppercut. She was now dumping the unconscious body onto a pile of refuse at the mouth of the alley. _You will taste the Slayer's blood tonight_. It was the only thought that had occupied his mind since Dru had uttered it.

He didn’t quite know what Buffy’s costume was supposed to be. Spike heartily approved of the fashion trend that had birds dressing up as trashy whatevers on Halloween, but he didn’t recognize what the Slayer was going for with her black little ensemble that showed off acres of very tanned skin. The pigtails with black ribbons were a nice touch.

She’d finished covering the poor sod with an abandoned piece of tarp and had started to walk back to the street. He moved out of the shadows, boots clomping loudly on the cement. The girl stopped, hands at her sides.

“Slayer,” he drawled.  The shard in his chest woke up, excited by her nearness. 

With a flip of her pigtails she turned her head to glance over her shoulder. A smile made her very red lips curl.

There was a grin on his face as well.

 This was going to be fun.

****

Buffy felt all the butterflies in California take wing in her stomach. Finally. And he was alone, that was a relief. She didn’t want to have to deal with a gang of demons before the real fun started. She left her back to him, but turned her head so she could watch him prowl towards her with his fangs extended.

“Spike.” His name felt heavy on her tongue as she rolled it around her mouth.

“Do tell a bloke what you’re doing out here all alone then, Bess?” He stopped just out of her reach.

“Looking for death.” She continued to stand with her back straight, hands on hips.

“Ah, you’d be looking for me then?” He took another stride towards her, making her Slayer senses scream. She smiled again, refusing to give ground.

“I did promise to try and kill you the next time I saw you.” Yellow eyes flicked up to meet her green ones. “But now I’m wondering, why would Spiky be out here all on his lonesome?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

“Looking for you. Dru told me tonight would be all topsey-turvey, and that I would taste the Slayer’s blood before morning.” He’d snuck to within a foot of her. His words coursed through her, making her shiver. The knot of uncertainty inside her eased. Finally, an end. No more pain, no more tears, just the dark. Spike was looking at her quizzically, his head tilted to the side. She couldn’t stop smiling. He was probably confused as to why she’d found his threatening words a balm to her fears.

“Do you have a place I can beat the crap out of you with no interruptions?” She asked, looking around the small alley. He smirked at her, then made an exaggerated bow and arm sweep towards an inconspicuous door to the left of them. “Will you walk into my parlor?”

Nonchalantly she strode towards the door, stopping to tap her finger on his chest. “Said the spider.” She jerked her thumb towards her chest. “To the fly.” Ah-ha! There went that scarred eyebrow shooting up.

_Got you!_

The door screeched in protest as she pushed it open, holding it for the vampire that strolled in after her. The interior of a warehouse stretched away into the gloom. Stacks of wooden pallets and haphazardly piled cardboard boxes were scattered unevenly between the concrete pillars that held the roof up. The door slammed behind them, echoing in the mostly empty space. Buffy turned, dropping into a fighting stance. Spike quickly backed up, his own fists coming up. Her pigtails swung as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

“Let’s dance,” she whispered.

He hesitated just a moment before the smirk was back. He feinted left then sent his fist flying right. Buffy blocked it and let her training take over.

Spike blocked a low kick and she spun into a roundhouse, catching him on the shoulder. She followed it up with a blow aimed at his face, but he sidestepped and aimed a series of punches at her ribs that forced her back on her heels, at least until he overextended slightly and she brought a knee up into his gut.

They continued trading blows as they ranged back and forth under the few sputtering florescent lights. There were no sounds except their own muffled grunts and the noise of flesh meeting flesh when a kick or punch connected. Both were too focused to even trade quips.

Buffy was having fun. Nothing was at stake and there was no one to save. She caught his knee with one kick, then sent him flying with another to his chest. Spike was up and swinging in a blink. A lucky jab caught her right cheek, snapping her head back. That one was going to leave a mark. She twisted, making him miss the followp punch, then ran towards one of the concrete columns with the vampire right on her tail. He caught her around the middle as she reached it, and she raised both her legs and kicked hard off the column, sending them both to the floor and loosening his grip. Rolling quickly to her feet, even as he sprang back to his, she shook herself out and waiting for the next attack. Buffy was grinning like a maniac. Spike looked a lot more serious, growling at her as they circled.

She threw a left hook followed closely by a kick aimed at his middle. The vampire caught her leg and she had to drop to the floor to get free, dodging his downward stomp as she rolled back to her feet. With a growl she launched two quick jabs at his face, forcing him to the side. She feinted another punch but instead caught him with a kick from the opposite leg, sending him staggering into a pile of boxes. He roared at her, fangs glinting in the low light.

 _Everything is so perfect_.

This was exactly what she wanted.

_A fight, the end, Spike._

He shifted left and Buffy brought her forearms up to block the expected punch, but he surprised her.  Ducking under her arms, he tackled her, both of them landing hard on a stack of plywood. The iron bands of his hands grabbed her forearms, pinning them with bruising strength beside her head. The fight left Buffy. This was it, she was done. Her body went limp as a rag doll, and she turned her head to expose her throat to him. “Remember, you have to leave. Promise me you’ll leave,” she entreated.

Body still tense, probably expecting a trick, Spike slowly leaned down towards her neck. He paused over the bow, making a low noise in the back of his throat as he pressed his face against her neck. His lips were soft as they ghosted over her skin to catch the tail end of the ribbon and tug the bow loose. The ribbon fell away, leaving her neck bare to him.

Buffy was suddenly very aware of his whole body pinning her to the wood stack, one knee resting between her thighs. His chest pressed against her harder as his mouth grazed her skin. His scent, that she’d missed so much, washed around her. She breathed in deeply, holding her breath and that essence of him inside of her. Without conscious decision her hips bucked up against him and a little moan escaped her. At her neck, Spike froze, the tips of his fangs just grazing the skin.

Buffy panted, trying to lie still, but her traitorous body seemed to have a mind of its own. Her leg moved to hook around his side as her tongue ran over suddenly dry lips. Another heartbeat and her pelvis was swiveling against him, pushing her core against the front of his jeans.  Something like a mew came from her throat.

“Bloody hell, Bess,” he whispered against her neck. He let go of her arm and grabbed her chin, dragging her to face him. The demon was gone and blue eyes bored into her. His nostrils flared and then he was kissing her, hard, tongue ramming into her mouth. Her own mouth became pliant and welcoming under his. Her lips sucked at the intrusion of his tongue. Spike freed her other arm, and she brought both of her hands to his head, holding him there. He trailed a hand across her collarbone, hooking a finger into the neckline of her top and yanking the fabric down to expose her breast.

He broke contact with her mouth, making her whimper in complaint. The whimper turned to a yelp as his cool mouth clamped around her nipple. After a few minutes of teasing the bud into a hard point he relaxed his jaw and sucked in more of her breast before biting down violently with blunt teeth. The mixture of pleasure and pain sent a bolt of warmth to her core, making her vaginal walls pulse with need. Her head dropped back and she moaned.  She continued to clutch his head, arching her body into his talented mouth.

“Spike, I need you.” With a snarl he freed the other breast and gave it the same treatment, the bruising bite stoking her inner fire into a raging inferno. Gasping and writhing under his touch, reality contracted until nothing existed but Spike and what he was doing to her body.

Knowing fingers skimmed up her inner thigh and under her skirt. Teasing aside the lacy fabric of her underwear, he drew a finger along her folds, the glide of his finger sending sparks shooting over every inch of her skin. The vampire brought his other hand under her skirt, and grabbed both sides of her panties, preparing to rip them off her.

****

She was already so damned wet. Which worked, since he was hard enough to cut glass.

Spike looked up at the panting Slayer, who was raised up on her elbows and watching him. Both nipples were still wet from his mouth, pink, tight, and pointed at the ceiling. The faint purple bruising that was starting to show around each areola made his mouth quirk up. Bess’d be thinking about him when she put on her bra tomorrow. His fingers tightened on the thin strips of fabric he was holding. The tips of his thumbnails dug into her hips.

“What color?” he asked her, his voice a deep growl.

“Huh?” she gasped. Her whole body undulated in a slow wave.

“What color knickers did you wear for me, luv? Black or red?”

Buffy blushed and giggled, which made her pert breasts bounce enticingly. She looked at him from under her lashes, like she felt shy. Her pink tongue darted out and trailed across her plump lower lip.

“Red,” she answered.

“That’s my Bess,” he praised. He tore easily through the fabric, holding up his prize in one hand.  Raising one eyebrow at the obviously wet state of the crotch he handed the slip of fabric to her, Buffy surprised him by leaning forward and dropping it in the pocket of his duster. Then she lay back, letting her knees fall open.

His spark was going crazy. Warmth radiated out from his chest. _Home_ , it seemed to whisper. _Life, love, everything…don’t hurt the girl_. 

He growled softly. I’m just going to make her scream, mate, in a good way.  His lips curled up in a grin as his girl reached for him.

“You’ve got too many clothes on,” she gasped.

****

Buffy felt like her whole body was on fire, waves of flame eddying over her skin. The vampire quickly undid his belt, and in his haste sent the button of his jeans pinging off into the darkness. He yanked his fly down, but was back on top of her before she got to see anything. He braced himself on one hand, the other reaching between their bodies to grab his cock. It felt like ice as he rubbed it against her clit. The heat in her roared in response, making her pant while she moved her hips in little circles, craving more.

“Please, Spike, please,” she begged, her hands grasping at his shoulders.  

“What do you need pet?” He continued to tease her, stroking his own shaft with a firm hand while sliding the tip over her nub.

She couldn’t look away from him. “Fuck me, Spike.”

He gasped and shuddered against her. Shifting, he pushed the swollen, weeping head of his cock between her folds until he’d just started to stretch the opening to her center.

 “Please,” she asked again, trembling.  There was no yesterday, no tomorrow, only this moment.

****

The spark in his chest was rejoicing. It seemed to be reaching out to the girl itself, straining to be connected to her.

He paused. This was a cliff there was no coming back from. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of her small form. Her emerald green eyes never left his face, the pupils wide and black. Spike huffed a small breath, locking his gaze with hers. 

In one swift motion he plunged to the hilt inside her, bringing his knee up onto the plywood to make the thrust even harder. He froze, eyes wide. He’d felt resistance and a sharp tear as he’d entered her.

His Bess had been a virgin.

He looked down at the girl under him, whose mouth was a round ‘O’ of shock.

****

Buffy felt like an idiot. In the heat of the moment she’d forgotten about the virginity thing. But it was quickly not mattering, the pain already dissipating. He felt perfect inside her, filling her and stretching her in the familiar way she’d missed. Her hands trailed down his shoulders and leather-clad back to grab his ass.

“Move,” she ordered.

He pulled out slowly, nearly his whole length, before thrusting into her again.  Buffy rolled up against him, tightening her inner walls, moaning her enjoyment. Spike thrust slowly a few more times, his muscles shaking. He was fighting for control as her rich blood coated his cock. The scent was strong enough that even she could smell it. Spike must be going insane.  

Buffy reached down between their bodies, closing her hand around his shaft. He stilled under her touch. She pumped him a few times, keeping her inner muscles clamped tightly around the head. When her hand was completely coated in her cream and blood she brought her hand back up right under his nose. Spike’s face shifted as his demon came out to the call of her blood. His tongue eagerly lapped at what she was offering. After the first few licks his control snapped and he was pistoning into her.

Once her hand was clean Buffy clutched at his shoulders, trying to keep steady under the jackhammering she was receiving. She was complete. Full. This was heaven. A monster was inside her and it was heaven.  Life and death ceased to matter, just the slap of his flesh against hers.

“God, Bess, so tight,” Spike managed to grind out from between his fangs. Then he slammed into her one more time, groaning loudly as he came. She was surprised, he never finished before her. Well, she was virgin tight on top of Slayer tight, so she couldn’t hold it against him. He pulled out of her and the sting made her gasp. If he left her now she didn’t know if she could stand it. Worried, she started to sit up and grab for him, only to find her ass picked up and then plunked down right at the edge of the plywood.

Spike knelt in front of her and pulled her legs over her shoulders. Yellow eyes met hers for a moment, then he was licking and kissing the inside of her thighs- first one and then the other. The fingers of his right hand found her clit and started circling. When his mouth latched onto her opening and he started to lap inside her, he switched to using the heel of his palm to grind against her mons and nub.  Buffy fisted both of her hands into his hair, pulling him tighter against her.

And…and…

Her shriek echoed in the emptiness of the warehouse. There was a rush of wetness between her legs and the demon there purred in happiness. Spike turned his face up to gaze at her, his lips, chin, and cheeks smeared with her blood and juice. Leaning forward, making sure she was watching him, he sucked her swollen clit into his mouth, just grazing his fangs over it. A second climax hit her and she keened wordlessly again.

With a self-satisfied smirk her vampire went back to fucking her with his tongue, blunt fingers continuing to rub her. Buffy collapsed back on the pallet. He was wringing all kinds of involuntary gasps and moans from her with his relentless assault. She’d been wrong earlier, _this_ was heaven. Her legs were alternating between trembling and gripping, vice-like, at the sides of his head to keep him in place. Buffy felt the tide rising again, her breath hitching, and the fireworks exploded. “Spike!” she gasped. His fingers released her clit for a second, reaching up to pat her stomach.

“Good Girl,” he cooed from between her thighs. “Now again.” He returned to attacking her. Yup, she was totally in heaven. Her fourth orgasm went on and on, leaving her shaking. Sitting up again she grabbed the hair on the top of Spike’s head, pulling him up her body.  It was time to get back to the main event. His face was still covered with her arousal and blood, though the demon was now gone. She was panting, sweating, and nowhere near done. Spike smashed into her mouth with a hungry kiss, and she could taste herself on his lips. Her hand reached down, curling about his cock, finding him ready for her.

Breaking the kiss, Buffy tilted her head back. “Spike, take off-”

“Buffy!” Willows voice rang out through the warehouse. Spike and Buffy froze. “Buffy, are you here?” she called again.

“Is it just her?” Buffy whispered.

“I can’t tell, luv.” Spike kissed her again, fleetingly. Blue eyes boring into hers, he cupped her cheek with one hand. “I’ll find you again soon. Unfinished business and all that.” Then he was off her and gone.  The door to the outside made a click as it closed.

She was alone.

“I’m here Willow!” she yelled, her voice slightly scratchy. Sitting up on the pallet the Slayer quickly adjusted her clothes to cover as much as she could. She wondered how “just fucked” she looked. There was going to be no standing for a while, she concluded as her leg muscles continued to quiver.  

Willow smiled when she saw Buffy. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over. Check it out! I’m a ghost!” She proceeded to walk through a pile of cardboard boxes.

“What happened?” Buffy exclaimed with what she hoped was the right amount of fear and incredulity.  

“It’s the costumes, but you’re ok because you didn’t buy yours at Ethan’s. You should have seen Giles’ face when I showed up in the Library. I totally freaked him out.” Willow’s smile was contagious. “He wanted to take care of things himself, so I came looking for you. And- hey.” Willow took a good look at Buffy for the first time. “You look really beat, are you ok?”

“I just found a little more demon activity then I was planning on. I’m totally fine, no worries needed.” Buffy gave her a big smile. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“Did you get a cat?” Willow asked.

“What? Can you smell anything, Willow?” Buffy gave a surreptitious sniff, she had to smell like sex. Really hot sex. And maybe blood.

“Nope, apparently ghosts aren’t so much with the working noses, or taste buds. I asked if you’d gotten a cat. We found, well, Angel found a little black kitty outside your door.”

“Angel found?” Buffy’s eyebrows shot up. That’d worked better than expected.

“Yeah, he’s been holding onto it while we tried to figure stuff out. Oh, and Xander’s a soldier, with a real gun and everything.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” Buffy said, only mostly untruthfully. “And I don’t think we’ll be watching any movies after this fun. Can you ask everyone, and that includes Angel and his kitty, to head home? I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“No problem Buf-” Willow was gone.

“I guess Giles broke the statue,” Buffy said to the air. She risked standing up. The motion was accompanied by a rush of cum running down her leg. There was nothing to be done for it, she’d just have to live with being sticky until she got home.

Live with it…she snorted. She wasn’t supposed to be living with anything. Stupid vampire, he’d messed up her plans, again. And stupid Willow, who’d somehow managed to pull her out of heaven, again.


	12. Blood

it’s getting out of hand

                        -Joy Division, “Disorder”

****

Angel trudged home through the dried leaves. The collar on his coat was flipped up, not against the cold that didn’t bother him, but to avoid accidentally meeting anyone’s eyes. This night had been way too odd what with Xander barking orders, Willow walking through walls, and the little black kitty he’d been petting that’d turned out to be Cordelia. Worst of all, after putting up with all of that, Buffy had been a complete no-show. Willow said the Slayer had been tracking demons near the center of town, that Buffy was fine but tired and headed home.

Reluctantly, he’d left his station outside the French door of Willow’s room after being told the party was a no go. When things had first gone weird Willow had led them back to her place, only she’d forgotten to invite Angel in before taking off to find Giles. He and Xander had helped the unwary in the neighborhood while waiting for either of the girls to return. The kitten had been tucked in his coat pocket whenever he’d needed both hands, something Cordelia had berated him about for five minutes straight once the spell had been broken.

He hadn’t even gotten to see Buffy’s costume, which Xander assured him was this cheerleader-of-the-damned type thing with a skirt that could barely be called that. Angel’s mind added in a few details, like bubble gum flavored lip-gloss and little white panties. Maybe there was still time to see her. He could just climb through her window if she was already asleep.

Angel ran a hand through his hair and frowned. He wasn’t sure of the welcome he’d receive. When had she stopped kissing him? He missed those sweet little kisses. Buffy was so innocent, so in need of someone to watch over her. Angel stopped walking towards his place, his feet carrying him towards Revello Drive instead.

Hunching further down into his coat, his mind drifted to last spring. Buffy had been dressed in white shorts and a purple halter top, a white headband in her hair. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, while she nattered on about events at school. Something about a talent show and the principal being totally mean. He wasn’t really listening, he just wanted to be there with her. Seeing her pull up a pair of knee high socks was worth any amount of gossip.

“Angel,” she’d said. “Time for me to be super Slayer.” Buffy leaned over him, bringing the side of her face against his. She fluttered her eyelashes against him.

“Hey, that tickles!” He’d laughed, pulling her down into his lap.

“Butterfly kisses!” She’d giggled, then leaned forward to do it again.

Angel had let her, then kissed her lips briefly before gently setting her back on her feet. “Now go get ‘em, slugger!” He’d smiled as she grabbed her stake and blew him a kiss, heading out to do a job with more ugliness to it than any young girl should ever see. Especially one that sweet. Angel wished he could carry the burden for her, but that wasn’t what fate had decreed. She was the Slayer and he did what he could to help from the shadows.

That memory was one of his favorites. It was one he used to combat the churning morass of doubt and guilt that ate at him from the inside. He stopped walking as he was overcome with emotion. Nearly a century and the soul could still bring him to his knees. He leaned against the brick wall of the building he’d been passing. Music from a bar wafted over to him from the other side of the street.

Tilting his head back, Angel looked up at the stars, but they were mostly obscured by the lights of Sunnydale. He looked back down at the dead leaves and trash on the street. Those were stark and clear.

When had she stopped needing him? Buffy had seemed to change overnight, going from a confused girl to a woman with her own agenda in the space of a few heartbeats. It wasn’t just him Buffy was pushing away either, she’d developed a hell of a backbone against her Watcher as well. Angel secretly applauded her for that as he didn’t always believe the Council had her best interests at heart. Only, why did her new found independence have to come with a side of cold shoulder for him? Maybe it was just a teenage girl thing to rebel against all signs of male dominance. But shouldn’t he be the guy she was rebelling with, not against?

Should he still be trying to see her tonight? His heart was screaming that he needed to. Maybe she would listen to him about the ‘rebel with’ thing. He could take her on a date to a seedy bar, let her feel like she was being bad.  That was the ticket. He’d let her think she was being daring while he kept her safe. Resolve back in place, Angel pushed himself upright from where he’d been leaning on the wall, determined that Buffy would see that he could still be what she needed. He took a step, then stopped again.

Was that…humming? Angel turned to peer back the way he’d come. His senses were whispering vampire. What kind of vampire walked around humming on tonight of all nights?

Across the street he could see the vamp walking. It was a male, with bleached blond hair and a leather duster. The late night air brought Angel the scent just as the vamp walked beneath a streetlamp. Spike! What the hell was he doing out on Halloween night? Besides not paying attention, as he didn’t seem to realize his Grandsire was standing just on the other side of the street. Angel growled low in the back of his throat. He’d taught the boy better than that.

Spike looked…happy. Angel’s mouth hung open as the other vampire reached the door of the bar and did a little dance to the music coming from inside. Continuing to saunter down the sidewalk, Spike graduated from humming to whistling. Spike, out on Halloween and this happy, could not be a good thing.

Angel crossed the street and was reaching a hand out to grab Spike’s coat before he had time to think better of it. Spike whipped around at the last second, just out of his reach.

“Angelus! Well, fancy meeting you here,” the blond smirked. “Been, what, decades? And we both just happen to be taking a stroll on the same street in the same town on Halloween night?”

“I’m here to do my duty,” Angel ground out. “But what I’m wondering is what no good…” he trailed off as the scent of blood assaulted his nose. Not just blood: Slayer’s blood. Buffy!

Angel’s face contorted into its demon form and he roared and grabbed Spike by the front of his jacket, slamming him into the wall.

“What have you done?” It came out a hiss.

“Careful there, don’t bruise the leather.” Spike ineffectively pushed at Angel’s fist. “Now what’s it you think I’ve done, Peaches?”

The muscles in Angel’s jaw worked, Spike’s calm demeanor making the anger and fear worse. Angel shook the younger vamp. “I can smell her blood on you!” he finally cried. “Where is she, is she dead?”

“What, the Slayer?”

“Yes, the Slayer, you idiot! What have you done to her, if you’ve hurt her, I’ll…I’ll…”  Angel couldn’t come up with a dire enough threat. “I’ll dust you!”

Spike threw his head back and outright laughed in his Grandsire’s face. “Stop with the blustering, you sod. Last I saw, the Slayer was right as rain.”

“Then why can I smell her blood on you?” Angel slammed Spike against the wall again.

“Oi! Hold up for minute.” Spike brought his hands up in a placating gesture, then he rolled his right hand so his index finger was pointing down. “I suggest you take another good whiff there, mate.”

Without ducking his head, Angel inhaled deeply through his nose. The scent of Buffy’s blood was nearly overwhelming, but it was mixed with…

“No!” It was a yell, a prayer. Angel dropped the other vamp and backed up. “No.” He snarled at Spike, fangs glinting in the yellow streetlamp. “Buffy deserved better than to be forced by scum like you.”  

“Wait? What? Forced?” Spike laughed again. “Aren’t you part of her white hat gang? If you’ve met her you know there’s no forcing that stubborn bint to do anything.”

Angel went very still. It had to have been rape, his Buffy would never have willingly given herself to a soulless creature like the one in front of him.  

****

The emotions washing over Angel’s face were making Spike preen. Rage, jealousy, despair. Obviously the ponce had wanted the Slayer for himself, but for once it’d been Spike that’d won. He was wearing the proof of that.

The shard in his chest, which had been alternating between waves of pure joy and demanding urges to go back to Buffy right that second and never let her go, did its own happy tap-dance at having won the girl. The Slayer was his.

And he was hers.

Relief flooded through him. The world was okay now. He’d figure out the details later, at this moment nothing could bring him down.

Spike gave Angel a feral smile and poked the bear. “I always thought killing ‘em was the right way to go, but not with that one. She fights like a hellcat–I’ve got a couple cracked ribs to show for it– but she fucks like a bloody Goddess.” The last came out rather wistfully. "Also, she really didn’t ride like a virgin. Hell of a surprise when I got in there. Do you think her watcher’s been giving her some non-Council approved lessons?”

“Shut up!” Angel hit Spike with a left cross, making the blond vamp stagger back a few steps. Spike straightened up, still grinning. He rubbed at his chest. His spark had not been happy with the last bit.

_Know it’s not true, I’m just having a go at Captain Forehead here._

One more twinge and the pain subsided. Spike felt indignant. Like he’d ever really badmouth her.

He narrowed his eyes at his Grandsire.

“That the best you got? You’re just mad because ole’ Spike got there before you. Now run along and go be broody somewhere else.” To Spike’s surprise, Angel gave him one last hateful look before he took off into the night. After checking his coat for damage, of which there was thankfully none, Spike continued on his way. Half a block along he started humming again. That Bess of his really was an amazing creature. The shard in his chest gave a pulse of contented agreement.  

****

The walk home in her minuscule outfit and no underwear had been nerve wracking, but she’d managed it without accidently flashing anyone. Once home she’d been glad to shed the costume, but she’d been unable to step into the steaming shower.

It was too much like washing Spike off of her. It was icky, but was all she had of him at the moment.

_Geez. Not the kind of thought you should ever share with your friends._

Now she was dressed in her pajamas, sitting on her bed, and eating the Halloween candy her mom had bought but no one had handed out. The pages of her poetry book made a soft noise as she flipped through them. She stopped on a lengthy one she hadn’t read yet. A line caught her eye: ‘No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be.’

_Ophelia, maybe._

She turned the page back and started reading from the beginning, murmuring the lines out loud. “Let us go then, you and I…”

****

Angel ran. It was several blocks before he was able to get his demon to recede. Anger, hate, fear, and jealousy all roiled inside him. Spike was lying. Had to be lying. What if Buffy was hurt and alone somewhere? His precious girl, violated by a monster. She’d be so frightened; she’d need her angel. Or it could be worse, his mind whispered, Spike could be telling the truth. Images of Buffy, naked and writhing with Spike rutting between her thighs assaulted him.

No!

Angel skittered to a stop in front of the house on Revello Drive. The light in Buffy’s room was on, but the blinds down. He considered banging on the front door, but decided to check and see if she was asleep first. With practiced movements he was up the tree and onto the roof in seconds. The window was open a few inches, and Angel went to stick his hand in and move the sash up. Only he couldn’t. He tried again, but that invisible barrier was there, preventing him. Angel just stared. This couldn’t be, Buffy had invited him in. The blinds were thrown back and the window shoved open, startled him to the point he nearly fell off the roof. Buffy stood there in a t-shirt and pajama pants with her arms crossed. Her hair was up in pigtails that somehow did not look at all girly.

She was scowling. “Hello Angel. Can I help you?”

Angel studied her. Buffy certainly didn’t look hurt, or like she’d been crying. He inhaled deeply, and the sickening truth hit him. She smelled of sex, and Spike. It was strong enough that Angel knew she hadn’t yet bathed and that the other vampire’s spendings were still there between her legs. His demon face rose and he snarled.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Jealousy much?” she asked. Angel growled again, his yellow eyes glittering. “So that’s how it’s going to be. Good night then.” Buffy closed the window and blinds. The curt dismissal was like a slap, Angel dropped back to the ground, his demon receding. Stumbling away he went to the only place he could think of.

****

The middle of the night knock on his door didn’t particularly bother Giles, as he was still awake. He was making notes about the events of Halloween and placing calls to England. However, Angel being on the other side of the door was a surprise. Brown eyes full of sorrow met his, and Giles immediately went to get the vampire a couple fingers worth of whisky. Angel stumbled inside and sat heavily on the couch. 

Giving the obviously devastated man the glass, Giles asked: “What’s happened? Is it Buffy?”

“Yes.” Angel’s voice was heavy with unshed tears. “Something is very wrong with Buffy.”

“Well, I’ve thought something’s been off about her for several weeks now. She’s just seemed, different, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is that’s making me think that.”

Angel regarded the older man. “She’s fucking Spike,” the vampire said without preamble.

“Dear lord, are you sure?”

“Yeah, unfortunately I am.” Angel curled in on himself like he was in physical pain.

Giles nearly asked a couple of unhelpful questions such as: how? or why? Instead he got up and secured thick drapes across the windows.

“Angel, please stay here today.” He didn’t want the souled vampire doing anything rash. “I’ll drive to the butcher in the morning and call a Scooby meeting for right after sunset.”  Angel just nodded and collapsed sideways on the couch. His eyes stared at nothing.


	13. Interventions

I'm gonna say it now

             -Phil Ochs, “I’m Going to Say It Now”

****

Spike cursed the lightening sky. He’d been outside the door to the factory for hours alternating between pacing and chain smoking. As long as he remained there it was as if the night wasn’t really over. Here he didn’t have to face Drusilla and the reality she’d bring along with her. He should have stayed with the Slayer. He could have hidden until she forced her little friends to leave. He could still be with her, holding her, resting with her head lying sleepily on his shoulder.

He was so fucked.

He wanted to taste her again, screw her until neither of them could walk, and sit and talk the whole night through with her. What was her favorite color? Did she like pineapple? Did she think ‘Yesterday’ or ‘Hey Jude’ was the better Beatles song? Spike growled in frustration, kicking the door so it rattled on its hinges.

He braced his hands on either side of the door’s frame. The spark in his chest was awake, sending out little bursts of warmth. He’d bet all the tea in China that it was trying to comfort him. Soon, he’d told her. If the sun wasn’t nearly up soon would be now.

The door swung inward suddenly and he nearly fell on top of Drusilla.

“It’s time for little boys to come inside.” She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into the factory. “You’ve already burned once, you don’t need to do it again.”

“Dru, I…I need to…”

“Shhhh.” She laid one long finger against his lips. “Are you trying to tell me what a bad little boy you’ve been?” He nodded and she giggled. “Bad vampire, playing in the sunshine!”

He stopped dead. “You already know.”

“Of course I know, silly William.” She tugged at his shirt again and he followed as she pulled him towards their bedroom. Spike didn’t know if he should be relieved or extremely worried. She stopped just inside the room. “Me and Miss Edith had a nice long chat today over tea. She showed me all kinds of worlds and in each one you and Buttercup are together. Sometimes sooner, sometimes later.” The vampiress let go of his shirt and swayed across the room to music only she could hear.

“Worlds? I don’t quite catch your meaning.”

“I understand it and that’s all that matters.” She came back carrying a bright blue blanket that she handed to him. “Here and now, you…” She tapped his forehead. “And you…” She poked his chest. “Already belong to her.” Drusilla smiled like the cat that ate the canary. “But if mummy is very, very good she’ll get a special treat.”

“What kind of treat?” Spike rubbed his chest. The spark didn’t appreciate Drusilla prodding it.

“One I’ll like.” She’d grabbed two pillows off the bed and loaded them into his arms as well.

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing, Dru?”

She frowned. “Just because I’ve decided to give you to Buttercup doesn’t mean I want to sleep in the same bed as a bad doggie. I’ll get fleas.” She snapped her teeth at him. “Now go away.” She pushed him out of the room and slammed the door in his face. The lock clicked.

Spike stood there, staring at the door.  He seemed to be doing a lot of that tonight. Drusilla had shut him out. A hundred and seventeen years and it ended with the thump of a door closing. He tried to be upset, to find the feelings that should be there over loss of his dark princess. Those emotions that even a week ago he might have mustered. But all he felt was absurdly grateful.

“Cheers,” he muttered to the door before he shrugged and turned to go find a new place to sleep.

****

He couldn’t get comfortable. Not because the floor he was bunked down on was concrete, he’d slept in much worse places, but because Spike couldn’t get his girl out his mind. Maybe a little fantasy and a quick wank would do the trick. Only he couldn’t seem to focus on her body. Instead, all he kept seeing were her eyes, wide and emerald green. His Bess looked at him like he was a feast and she a month starved.  It was good for his ego but that wasn’t the only emotion there. There was black pit behind her gaze.

The Slayer looked haunted.

Spike ground his teeth in frustration. What reason could the girl possibly have to be so sad? If only he was beside her right now, he’d chase every demon she had away until there was room for only him.

_Moonlight, her hair spread out in waves across a pillow._

“Slayer,” he growled to the empty room. He rolled onto his side and grabbed one of the two pillows out from under his head. That felt better. He curled up around the pillow, clutching it tight. If only he could hold her. The spark in his chest pulsed in sympathy. They both needed her. Spike let his face shift into its vampiric guise. He bit into the downy pillow he was crushing in his arms. “Mine,” he whispered around his fangs.

****

The van’s engine clinked a couple times in the silence after her mom turned it off. The night air was blowing in from the ocean, carrying the crisp scent of salt and sea with it. Buffy looked over at Joyce’s concerned face.

“Honey, are you sure you don’t want to tell me what this is about before we go in there? You’re not doing drugs, are you?”

“No, Mom, no drugs.” _So much weirder than that._ “Let’s just get this over with.” They got out of the car and walked to Giles’ door. On impulse Buffy turned and hugged her mother. “No matter what, I love you, Mom. You need to know that.”

“Oh, I love you too, Buffy, but you’re really starting to scare me. Is there going to be a firing squad behind that door?” Her mom’s forehead was creased with worry.

Swallowing a small lump in her throat, Buffy replied: “Just the next best thing.” Giles had called, saying Angel had run into Spike last night and that the Scoobies needed to talk. Buffy had been able to guess about what. She’d said sure, but only if she could hijack the meeting and tell her mom about the Slaying first. Giles had been surprised but had readily agreed. Hopefully they could get that settled before the whole intercourse with a vampire thing came up.

Joyce knocked, and Xander opened the door.

“Hi Buffster and Mom! Come on in, the curiosity is killing me.” Xander smiled at them as they shrugged off their coats. Apparently he didn’t know yet. Giles was standing near the kitchen, scotch in hand. Xander plunked down next to Willow on the couch. Angel was perched on the stairs, glowering.

Joyce leaned down to Buffy. “Isn’t that the guy that was tutoring you in history?” she whispered.

“Yeah, Angel. Mom, why don’t you sit in the chair.” Joyce looked at her daughter strangely, but sat down into the armchair.

Buffy stayed standing.

She addressed the room. “Before we get into why Buffy should be raked over the coals, there’s something I’d like to talk about with my mom. She needs to know before something hurts her and I thought it would be better if I had all of you to back me up.” She met each of their eyes in turn. Angel quickly looked away.

“Are you sure about this, Buffy?” Giles asked. He set down his scotch with a clink before pulling off his glasses to clean them. He knew what she was going to do. The others just looked confused.

“Yeah, I am.” Buffy turned to face Joyce and sucked in a deep breath. “Mom, you remember when you and Dad thought I’d gone crazy, talking about vampires and demons and being the Chosen One?” Joyce nodded, her face growing serious. “What everyone else here doesn’t know is that you and Dad put me in a mental hospital over it.” Joyce flinched.

“Excuse me?” Giles picked up his scotch and downed the rest of it in one gulp before setting the glass down hard.  Buffy held her hand up to keep him at bay.

“While I was there I quit talking about all that so they’d think I was better and let me out. Presto! Buffy’s all fixed. I couldn’t let anything slip since then, because I really didn’t want to go back. But I’m done. I’m tired of hiding. This whole Slayer thing? It’s not a fantasy. It’s not something I made up to try and get out of trouble or to get attention.  I really am the Vampire Slayer. It’s my job to hunt and kill all the things that go bump in the night.”

“Buffy, I don’t understand.” Joyce was perched on the edge of the chair, looking like she wanted to run from her daughter’s words.

“I know. That’s why I wanted to do this with others here, it’ll seem less crazy that way. But really Mom, what do you think has been going on for the last two years? All the late nights, ruined clothing, and unexplained bumps and bruises? It wasn’t my choice to be this.” Buffy couldn’t help the fact she was nearly yelling. “Nothing is ever my choice. It’s always me that gets to stop the world from ending, that loses everything again and again and again. Me that knows my days are numbered. I’m always that girl that nobody cares about except when they need her superpowers! And in the end-” She grabbed an empty glass from the coffee table and shattered it against the wall. “Everyone leaves me!”

“Buffy, stop!” Joyce was on her feet now. “You’re delusional. Stop, we can get you help.”

“Joyce,” Giles was suddenly at the distraught woman’s side. “Buffy is telling the truth.” Buffy stood with her arms wrapped around herself, tears on her cheeks. She was close to falling into the darkness again, only half worried about the things going on around her. Abstractly she heard Giles talking to her mother in his quiet way. “We’re Buffy’s friends. We help her as we can. I represent an organization that is dedicated to the Slayer, that aids her in her calling. Willow and Xander,” he indicated the two friends, who were sitting wide-eyed on the couch, “help her by researching what she’s up against. Sometimes they even go out on patrol with her, so that she is not all alone.” The last sentence was directed at Buffy rather than her mother, but the Slayer didn’t acknowledge it. She just continued to stare at the floor with tears drying unheeded on her cheeks. “Angel,” Giles pointed to where he was sitting on the stairs, “used to be one of the bad guys, but is helping us now. If you’d be so kind Angel, perhaps you could show Joyce what we’re talking about. It might help her understand.”  

“Help me understand?” Joyce asked. “I thought you were just some college guy trying to sneak into my daughter’s pants.” Angel’s face darkened. He stood up and paced towards Joyce in a very predatory way. She started to back up, but Giles gently caught her elbow.

“Buffy,” Giles said. “I should have asked, are you ok with this?”

“Yup, sometimes the direct way is best.”  Tears now forgotten she moved to have a better view. With a growl, Angel let his features shift to those of the demon inside. He opened his mouth and snarled for the full effect. Joyce didn’t scream, or faint, she just stared, obviously terrified. “Welcome to the hellmouth,” Buffy whispered.  Angel took a step towards Joyce and she let out a startled yelp.

“Better be careful there, big guy,” Xander said. “I’m betting Buffy’s got a stake on her somewhere.”

“Yeah, Angel,” Buffy snickered. “If you’re a big pile of dust the second half of this conversation might be much easier for me.”

Angel straightened up, his human features once more in place. He shot Buffy a dark look.

“Sorry, Joyce,” Angel mumbled before returning to the stairs.

Fear turned to outrage as Joyce jerked her elbow out of the Watcher’s grip. She shook her finger at Giles. “You…you… you let my baby go out and fight things like that? What kind of a man are you? What kind of friends are you?”

“The good kind,” Buffy said, putting a hand on her mother’s arm. “They’re the best.” Joyce was shaking, but she let her daughter guide her back to her seat. Buffy knelt beside her mother’s knees.  “I do what I have to do, Mom. I fight. There’s no way to take this from me. I’d like to be normal and do normal things, but it never works. I know this isn’t what you want for me. But I need you to understand, to be there for me when I come home covered in gunk and blood and ash. I need you to worry about me. You can do that, right?”

****

Joyce was in freefall. Her world had just shifted and she was falling with no one to catch her. Everyone left Buffy? What about her? Where was her husband or her sisters when things got tough?

Her daughter was looking at her expectantly. Could she be there for her? What would happen if she said she didn’t think she could do it?

Joyce took a deep breath “I think so, maybe. Yes.” She leaned forward and hugged Buffy. “I don’t get it yet, but I’ll try, and I reserve the right to be a bitch about it occasionally too.”

There was silence as she continued to embrace her daughter. “I have a lot more questions about how this all works.” Joyce wanted to believe that she could be accepting and supportive, but deep down she knew it wasn’t that easy.

“We can help you with that,” Giles said with a smile. Joyce looked over her daughter’s shoulder at the man she’d thought had been nothing more than a dedicated librarian. How much time was Buffy spending with him? He picked up a small book with a plain cover off the back of the couch and handed it to her. “This contains some basic information. After you read it you can talk to me or Buffy and we’ll start filling in the details.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you.” She held the book in one hand as Buffy gave her one more squeeze and stood up.

The world seemed a much darker and scarier place than it had a few minutes ago. She glanced nervously at the…thing…sitting on the stairs. How could she accept that her daughter spent any amount of time around a monster like that?  

 “Angel,” Willow piped up from her place on the couch. “What’s the other thing you and Giles wanted to talk about? Giles sounded super serious on the phone, but I’m sure he would've said something if telling Buffy’s mom about the slayage was the only plan. This was kind of nice actually.” The redhead grinned at Joyce, who nodded back. She didn’t fell much like smiling at the moment.

****

Buffy hoped that this would be easier on her mother than finding out the hard way; the way that ended up with her mom throwing her out of the house. It should also make Joyce safer. They still needed to have a chat about inviting strangers into the house after dark.

Buffy walked to the middle of the room and settled her hands on her hips. “Maybe we can just drop the other thing. It’s not that important anyway.”

“Buffy, I’m afraid it is rather important.” Giles was cleaning his glasses again. “However, Joyce, you may not want to hear this part. I can drop Buffy off at home when we’re done.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to hear it? Buffy, what’s going on?” Joyce’s face had gone even paler.

“They’re about to scold me, but you can stay if you want. It’s easier for me to only face this once.”  Buffy tilted her head so she could see Angel. It was funny really, the first time she’d had to have the ‘sex talk’ with her mom was because of him–well Angelus–showing up and opening his big mouth. Now she was going to have to go through another round of awkward parental bird-and-bees discussion because of him.

Her breath stuttered. It’d been less than twenty-four hours since Spike’s hands and mouth had been on her. It felt like years. Unthinkingly, her eyes sought the door. He was out there, somewhere, maybe thinking of her. Impossible as it was she wished he’d come charging through the door and carry her off over his shoulder, but the door remained silently closed.

“Would you like to start, Angel?” Giles gestured to the vampire.

“Yeah, uh, okay.” He cleared his throat, then looked at Joyce. “You sure you don’t want your mom to leave, Buffy?”

“Say what you need to say, she might as well hear it too. Quit stalling.” Buffy gritted her teeth. She’d been through a few Scooby interventions and since rescue didn’t seem imminent it looked like she was in for one more. 

“Right.” Angel got up and started pacing. “See, I was walking home after everything was back to normal yesterday…and I ran into Spike.”

“Who’s Spike?” Joyce asked.

Buffy was still standing with her arms braced, glaring at Angel. “You hit him with an ax one time, Mom,” she said, not turning her head.

“Oh,” Joyce’s brows pulled together. “This was the guy at the school, right? That had you up against the wall?”

“Bingo.” Buffy didn’t take her eyes off Angel.

“He’s a vampire Angel knew back in the day,” Xander added. “With back in the day being like a bazillion years ago.”

Joyce gasped. “He’s a vampire too?” Buffy nodded her head once.  

“Anyway,” Angel continued. “He seemed awfully happy about something.” Buffy was pretty sure everyone was watching the agitated vampire and didn’t see her blush. “I figured that couldn’t be good. So I confronted him.” Angel quit pacing. “I could smell Slayer blood on him. I thought he’d killed you, Buffy.” There was anguish in his tone. She could feel eyes on her now, but she didn’t move.

“So what happened? You didn’t say you’d seen Spike when I talked to you, Buffy.” Willow sounded confused. “Is he the one that gave you that bruise? Did he like, give you a bloody nose or something as well?”

Buffy put her hand up to her cheek, pressing on the bruise, focusing on the pain. “Keep talking Angel.”

“This guy hit you, Buffy?” Her mom’s voice was worried.

“Yeah, Mom. We were fighting, y’know: Slayer, vampire. We just went over that.” She still hadn’t turned away from Angel.

“The blood wasn’t on his hands or his clothes, was it Buffy?” Angel’s broken heart was taking over and he snarled at her, eyes flashing gold. “So where did you give it up? Against an alley wall like a common whore? Bent over a trash can?”

“Pile of wood in a warehouse. Would your jealousy like a further play by play?” Buffy crossed her arms. She ignored the startled gasps and sudden whispers behind her.

Angel was right in her face now, but she didn’t flinch. If his love was crushed and died here, then it was like a vaccination against Angelus. No more chance of perfect happiness. His voice was low, even, and cruel “So how was it Buffy? Did he make you scream and moan? Did you get off on that soulless monster fucking you?”

Two could play this game, she matched his tone. “So sweet of you to ask. I had a real good time.” She smiled amiably up at Angel, hiding her own hurt and anguish at sending him into hell one more time. Dropping her voice so only he could hear, she twisted the sword a little more. “I had all that virgin blood running down my legs, so you better believe he was eating me out like nobody’s business. I was going off like a machine gun.” Abruptly Angel turned, punching a hole in Giles’ wall. The room erupted behind them.

“Buffy, young lady, we are leaving.” That was her mom.

“I don’t understand why you’d do something so dangerous. It’s very disappointing, and I don’t know quite how it got to this point.” Giles.

“Guys, there’s probably more going on here than we know about.” Willow.

“So that’s what that costume was for. I get it now.” Xander.

“Slut.” That came from in front of her: Angel.

“I’ll give you a pass because you’re angry, but after tonight if you ever say that to me that again, I will no longer call you friend.”

“Buffy, I -” Angel started but she turned away from him.

“Missy, you and I are going to have a talk.” Her mom was right in front of her.  Grabbing Buffy’s arm, Joyce tried to pull her towards the door.

Buffy’s eyes swept around the room. Willow was standing right in front of a surprised Giles, wearing her resolve face and pointing a finger at him. “You didn’t say anything about this to me or Xander! And shouldn’t you trust Buffy? Couldn’t you have asked her privately about this first?”

Xander was advancing on Angel. “What right do you have to talk to my friend that way?” He punched Angel in the cheek, though the force barely moved the vampire and made Xander shake his hand at the sting. “I’m not happy about it but you don’t see me trying to pin a red letter A on her dress!”

Buffy was stunned.  They were standing up for her. Willow and Xander, no questions, no judgment. The way friends were supposed to.

She easily broke her mother’s grip. “Mom, you need to let this go. As the Slayer I’ve had to grow up fast. Finding out that I’m not a virgin should really be far down on the list of things you’re worried about. I just told you I’m responsible for protecting basically the entire world. If I find solace in a guy’s arms for a few hours, that’s really no one’s business except mine. It won’t keep me from stopping the next apocalypse.”

_Which I just might have prevented here, tonight. No Angelus therefore no Acathla._

Her friends were still arguing, strong words flying. Panic stabbed white-hot through her brain. It was too much. They’d run away from her again, scatter themselves to the four winds and leave her on her own. She was helpless to stop it. Her throat was closing up.

“Air, I need air,” Buffy coughed. The next thing she knew she was outside and running. Street lights blurred with tears as she sprinted under them. The pain chased her, twisting in her stomach, ripping into her heart. When at last she stilled, a fresh flow of tears rolled down her face when she saw where her feet had taken her. The crypt was, of course, empty. It would be years before Spike would be there. But she didn’t care. She forced the familiar door open and collapsed to the dirt floor. The sobbing completely overtook her. The darkness inside reared its head and swallowed her whole.  


	14. Crypt

Tears are fallin' and I feel the pain

                     -Del Shannon, "Runaway"

****

Spike was walking into town to restock on cigarettes when he saw his Slayer running into a cemetery. Without hesitation he hurried to catch up with her. When he crossed the same part of the sidewalk as she had a moment ago he caught the scent of salt. He crouched down and touched one of the little drops on the ground. A tear. His Bess was crying.

He tore after her, catching sight of her just as she broke through a crypt door. It shut behind her and Spike leaned against it, listening to her sob. Most of him, including the damn spark, was screaming at him to go in after her and gather her up in his arms. He’d tell her everything was okay, that she didn’t need to cry, and that he’d fix whatever was wrong.

What the hell could have happened?

He felt out of his depth. What would an upset Slayer need to feel better? He’d have brought Dru something to eat that was wearing a pretty dress or nice jewelry. The shard gave him a painful stab.

_I’m not bloody stupid!_

Humans had to eat, too. He’d get her something, and maybe a blanket to keep her warm. Women were always getting cold.

At the 7-11 he had the acne-covered clerk ring up his carton of cigarettes while he searched through the aisles looking for something his girl might like. He had to hurry. He’d left her alone. In a god damned cemetery. He needed…he needed…he bloody well needed to take care of her.

Grabbing a bottle of water and a package of something that looked vaguely like cupcakes he plunked them down next to the smokes. The pup behind the counter visibly quaked in his boots as Spike’s eyes dared him to say anything. The kid was lucky these places all had security cameras now, or he’d have drained the clerk just to prove a point. He did flash a little fang at the kid on his way out to show he hadn’t really needed to pay.

On his way back to the crypt Spike took a detour through several backyards, nabbing a quilt that had been left out on a clothesline and nicking a pillow off a bench on a back porch.

Back outside the crypt door he put his ear against the cut stone, but there was no longer any noise from within. Maybe she’d left and he’d be more the fool. Silently as he could he opened the door and crept in. His nose told him immediately that the Slayer was still there. He could hear her even breathing and slowed heart rate. Poor chit must have cried herself to sleep. Spike had no idea what could have devastated the girl to this extent, but he felt an urgent need to hit whatever or whoever it was.

Not wanting to disturb her, Spike padded on silent feet to where she was curled up. He settled the quilt over her and placed the food and water next to her. Finally, he slipped a hand under her head and eased the pillow between her and the floor. She stirred and murmured, but didn’t wake.

“There you go, luv,” he whispered. “Sleep tight, and don’t let the wee little vampires bite.” He started to go but stopped at the door. He turned around, watching her huddled form. Buffy mumbled something in her sleep and her limbs moved restlessly. He couldn't make himself leave and he’d be damned if he was going to stand there watching her sleep like a bloody ponce. Spike prowled back over to Buffy and leaned close to her sleepoftened face.

"Slayer, wake up!" He snarled into her ear. Buffy sat bolt upright, nearly colliding with him.

"Spike!" She gasped. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He shrugged, walking nonchalantly over to one of the sarcophagi and hopping up to sit on the top.

"You've been crying." It wasn't a question. He lit a cig, the lighter briefly ruining his night vision.

"Yeah." She didn't elaborate.

"About?" he prompted.

"Do I have to tell you? It feels kind of childish now." She sat with her head resting on her knees, watching the cherry of the cigarette as he smoked.

"Why don't you tell ole' Spike? It’ll probably make you feel better." Unless it was about him, then she might decide to try and take it out on him. That might make her feel better too, so really win-win.

Buffy sighed. Then in a small voice she said: "My friends were fighting because of something I did."

Spike snorted. "Well, fuck 'em then."

Buffy laughed. "Right! Fuck them!" There was a rustle as she laid back down. "Thank you for the blanket.”

"It’s nothing, Bess." The sound of her curling up under the quilt and the little moan into the pillow she made as she settled her head were driving him to distraction. He should be over there, taking what he wanted. The Slayer probably would welcome him with open arms and legs, but it wasn't what the girl needed right now.

"You ever play 'Anywhere but Here’?" she asked sleepily.

"Never heard of it."

"It’s a game. The players take turns making up a scenario they’d rather be in than where they currently are. You pick a place, something to do, and a person. Since it’s you we can add different points in history as well. Usually the person is a celebrity, but we can leave that part off."

"Don't want me knowing your type, Bess?" He chuckled.

"No, I can only think of one person I want to be with right now, so it's irrelevant."

Was he supposed to know who she bloody well meant? He tried not to let it mess with his mind. She was right though, it was irrelevant. Every sodding time he'd just say ‘you’ and end up sounding like some kind of nancy boy.

“Let me give you an example: Disneyland riding the teacups with Harrison Ford. Only without the person and with a lot more detail.” She sighed. “Now it’s your turn.”

Spike took a deep breath. "Right, here goes: Paris, in the late summer of 1925. A seedy little cafe with a round of absinthe to drink. There's a man scribbling away in the corner, it might be Hemingway writing _The Sun Also Rises_.” _With you._  

Buffy exhaled. "You're good at this. I wish I could see Paris someday."

"Why can't you? It’s just a plane ride away."

"Slayer on the hellmouth. Not a lot of vacay time. Ok, my turn." She didn't give him a chance to argue with her. "Lake Tahoe in summer, on a dinner cruise, the moon full over the water. They're serving filet mignon and a to-die-for white Riesling. I have on a backless little black dress and a strappy pair of heels." _With you._  

"New Orleans during Mardi Gras. The streets are packed, Jazz pouring out of the door of every cafe, and booze pouring into every glass. There's a private balcony overlooking Bourbon Street, and group of girls on the streets below that are really into getting beads." _With you._

Buffy giggled. "Spike! Okay, a beach in Tahiti with white sand. The waves are foamy in the moonlight. There's not another person for miles, so I don't even need a swimsuit. The breeze off the ocean is cool, but the sand’s still warm from the sun so I'm comfortable. I lay on a towel and just listen to the surf." _With you._

"Las Vegas in the 1950s, watching Sinatra sing. I have a wad of cash in my pocket from playing roulette, and sweet penthouse hotel room to go back to." _With you._ _Spike stubbed out his cigarette and flicked the butt to the ground._

Buffy yawned. " New York in Times Square on New Year’s Eve. The music is playing and everyone is happy and excited. The ball drops and the year lights up, saying 2005. I get a New Year's kiss." _From you._  

She yawned again and Spike heard her breathing even out. The Slayer had fallen back asleep.

He stood up and took a step towards her. "London, 1880, with you, Buffy," he whispered. "I write you a poem and when I read it to you, instead of laughing, you fall in love with me. We have a big wedding, an even bigger family, and a happily ever after." He dropped into a crouch, letting his demon out so he could see her better in the dark. Rummaging in his pockets he pulled out a scrap of paper and a stub of a pencil, scribbling a note to leave beside the water.

Exiting the crypt, Spike lit up another cigarette, sitting down on one of the headstones to keep watch over her until the morning forced him to head home. He thought about absolutely anything except why he was standing guard over a sleeping Slayer, or why, when the east started to brighten, it hurt to leave.

****

It was a slightly lighter shade of dark in the crypt when Buffy awoke. She forced her sleep crusted eyes to open and sat up. The crypt was empty. Starving and thirsty she gratefully gulped down the water and ate the Ho-Ho’s. After every last crumb was gone she picked up the scrap of paper.

_Bess, Thank you for keeping me company. I’ll see you soon. -S._

Buffy smiled before groaning and flopping back down on the dirt.

_No, no, no, no, no, Spike! You can’t do this. You’re supposed to kill me, leave, and go be happily evil with Drusilla for as long as possible somewhere very far away from the hellmouth._

He’d been in here, could have easily killed her. But no, he’d made her comfortable in her sleep and made sure she’d be taken care of when she woke up. Stupid, stupid vampire. She kicked the side of one of the sarcophaguses. Couldn’t he just once, one single time, do what she wanted him to? It was also worrying that she hadn’t been woken up by her Slayer senses screaming vampire when he’d first been in there. But it was Spike, and she’d lived in the same house with him. Even now he must not register as a threat.

Buffy folded the blanket and put it and the pillow on top of a stone slab. Outside, the sun was shining away and birds were singing. Next to one of the headstones she noticed a collection of cigarette butts littering the ground, like there used to be next to the tree under her window. She rolled her eyes again at the stupidity of vampires.

Even without a watch she could tell it was way too late to head to school, so she went home instead. It was tempting to try and sneak in her window but she decided she had to face her mom sooner or later. Immediately upon Buffy cracking open the door, Joyce was flying across the room to embrace her.

“Buffy! Oh my god, you’re ok. I was so worried. I filed a missing person report! We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Were you with him? Why didn’t you call?”

“Mom, you’re squishing me.” But Buffy didn’t move to get out of the hug. “What time is it? And was I with who?”

“It’s 10:30 in the morning. Were you with that guy, Spike?”

“Oh, no. I wasn’t with anyone." Buffy flinched at the lie, but if Joyce noticed she didn't say anything. "I just needed to be alone to clear my head. I guess I should call Giles and let him know I’m safe and sound.”

Joyce finally backed away a little but kept her hands on Buffy’s shoulders. “I’m very, very glad you’re okay. And while I love you dearly, you are currently grounded for all of time as of right now. You dropped two huge bombs on your mother and then went running off into the night.”

“Well, at least I’m not on drugs. Let me call Giles and we can continue this inquisition in a moment.”

“Try his apartment first,” Joyce called after her as Buffy headed into the kitchen.

She pulled cold pizza out of the fridge while she dialed Giles's apartment.

“Joyce,” he picked up.

“No, Buffy.”

“Buffy, thank goodness. We’ve been frantic. Are you doing alright?” She heard Xander and Willow yelling questions in the background.

“I’m fine. I just needed to be alone after all that…stuff. Hey, isn’t it Friday? What happened to school?” Buffy stuffed a bite of pizza into her mouth.

“We were all quite worried about you, classes and work didn’t seem so important.”

Buffy swallowed her bite with some difficulty. It had gone bland and dry in her mouth. These people, who loved her, didn’t deserve her acting like an idiot.

“I’m sorry Giles,” she said.

“I am sorry as well, Buffy. I should have thought, and not just reacted. We’ll talk…”

“Later,” Buffy supplied. “I’m grounded right now. I should humor my mom for at least one night. Tell Wills and Xander I’ll call them when my mom lets me use the phone again in about a million years.”

“Yes, of course. We’ll see you soon.”

“Bye, sorry again.” She hung up and looked down at the receiver. The number floated at the edge of her memory. Slowly she dialed it. The voice on the other end was sleepy.

 

“Hello?”

“Hi Angel, it’s Buffy.”

“Buffy! Are you ok? Where are you?” He sounded much more awake now.

“I’m fine, I’m at home. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. Not for what I did but for what I said. You’ve been watching over me for a long time, and I appreciate that. I know that you wanted us to be more, but I can’t be that. Ever.” She was glad he couldn’t see the tears gathering in her eyes. At one time Angel had meant the world to her and she’d ripped his guts out last night. Whether or not he deserved it and even if she’d halted an apocalypse, it had still hurt her to be that cruel.

“Buffy-” he started, so much heartbreak in just her name.

“I’m sorry Angel. I’m not pedestal girl. You can’t love me.” The tears escaped and started running down her cheeks. “I need a friend, someone to help. Not a lover or a father or a brother. Please say you’ll help me. I don’t want to fight with you.”  

“I don’t know, Buffy, I’ll try.” She could imagine him sitting there, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That’s all that I can ask. I’ll see you later.” Buffy hung up before he could reply.

Joyce was waiting for her with a kleenex. Buffy blew her nose and dried her eyes. When she was done Joyce pounced.

“Now, time to talk young lady. Why is it your mother finds out in less than thirty minutes that not only is her sixteen-year-old daughter some demon hunter putting herself in incredible danger on a daily basis, but that she is also not a virgin? What do you even know about this guy besides that he’s a vampire? How old is he?”

“I don’t think that’s totally relevant,” Buffy stalled.

“I’m your mother, and I will decide what’s relevant or not. And he attacked your school! I thought he was going to kill you. How old is he?”

Joyce wasn’t going to let that one go. “I don’t know exactly,” Buffy said. “He was, uh, turned in 1880 though.”  The shocked expression on her mother’s face was comical. The hysterical giggles threatened to make a comeback.

“And what kind of name is Spike?” Joyce apparently wanted to continue playing twenty questions.

 _He tortured people by driving railroad spikes through them, Mom._ Buffy bit her lip against the threatening laughter. _He’s an evil, undead serial killer that brings me presents and makes my knees fall open._

“It’s a nickname”, she finally got out, “some kind of railroad thing. He likes hot chocolate, the kind with little marshmallows in it. And he’s from London. Oh, and he listens to a lot of punk music. Uh, and he smokes, which I guess matters less when you can’t die of cancer. He watches too much TV and he’s a Manchester United fan.”  Buffy realized she was babbling and snapped her mouth closed.

“Gee, sounds like the guy every mother dreams about for her underage daughter.”

“He doesn’t know I’m only sixteen. Could be worse, he could be in a band.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” Joyce sighed. “I don’t want you seeing him Buffy. I certainly don’t want you sleeping with him. You’re going to get hurt, and I don’t mean just physically.” Joyce frowned and touched the yellowing bruise on her daughter’s cheek. “Did he really hit you? I might need to get that fire ax again. I just can’t see you defending someone who would do that to you.”

“Mom! Seriously, it was the usual kind of Slayer fight. I started it for pete's sake. I don’t think either of us quite expected it to end up like it did. I’m pretty sure I broke a few of his ribs at one point.” Joyce didn't look convinced. “He is not abusing me. Is that clear enough? He’s also not my boyfriend. I’m not going to wear his letter jacket and we’re not about to go on a date to the malt shop. Two people sort of accidentally sleeping together when they are mostly trying to kill each other does not a relationship make. I’m going upstairs now.”

“But you love him.” It wasn’t a question. Buffy just looked at her mother. There was no use making a bunch of noise to deny it. Joyce knew it because she knew her daughter. Needing to get out of there immediately, Buffy squeezed between the wall and her mom.

Joyce didn’t try to stop her. Buffy ran up the stairs and slammed her door for good measure. She pulled the poetry book out from under her mattress, added the note Spike had left in the crypt to it, then hugged it to her chest as she curled up on the bed. Damn it, she was not sixteen, she was twenty-three. She had died twice and saved the world, a lot. It should be no one’s business but her own who she slept with or who she loved, for that matter.

Buffy swallowed hard. If she was going to stay here, if she was going to _live_ here, then she couldn’t remain sixteen for much longer.


	15. Bedroom

I want to live fast, love hard, die young, and leave a beautiful memory

                                     -Faron Young, "Live Fast, Love Hard, Die Young"

****

Outside the window it was a lovely afternoon. Buffy had been lying on her bed for the past hour and replaying the events of the last several days over and over in her head. Nothing had gotten any clearer. She kicked her legs restlessly on the bed, way too wired to just lay there. She sat up and pried her fingers off of her poetry book, setting it down on her nightstand.  Looking around her bedroom she frowned.

It was a mess.

She was bored enough that even cleaning sounded like a great idea. The afternoon crawled by as she picked up the trash, dealt with laundry, dusted, and vacuumed. When everything was spic-n-span she still wasn’t satisfied. It looked like a little girl lived there. Buffy grabbed some empty boxes out of the hall closet and started dumping things into them. Mr. Gordo went from being on her bed to having a new home on a shelf. Silently she promised him that if the entire town was ever destroyed again she’d make sure he’d make it out.

Posters of boybands came down. There were a few art prints she’d found stuffed in her closet and she hung those up instead. At the end she had a neat and clean room that no longer screamed teeny-bopper. It made her feel a lot more like herself.

****

Dinner had been a while ago, her mom not saying much while they ate sitting in front of the TV.

Buffy had stayed in her room for the rest of the day, attempting to do homework or read.

Her poetry book still sat on her nightstand and she decided it needed company. She was going through a box of books that had been her father’s when she heard a tap at the window. With a sigh she looked up at her alarm clock. It was 8:00 pm, well after sunset.

The tap came again, louder. She guessed Angel had decided being friends needed to start now. _Goody._ The black camisole and striped pajama bottoms she was wearing would do to tell him to get lost and give her more time.

Buffy pulled up the blinds only to find Spike, not Angel, crouched outside her window. Her eyebrows flew up and she quickly opened the sash. “Get in here before someone sees you. I’m grounded and you’re not my mother’s favorite person at the moment. So be quiet.” Smirking he stepped into her room. “What are you doing here anyway?” Buffy dropped the blinds back down.

Spike was walking around her room and poking at things. He opened the drawer to her vanity and frowned at the collection of stakes, crosses, and holy water in it. “Serves you right for snooping,” Buffy said, pushing the drawer closed. “Now answer me, why are you here?” She gestured for him to sit on the edge of the bed and plunked her butt on the floor.

His note had said soon but she really hadn’t been expecting him to show up the next night at her house.

“Maybe I just wanted to see where my Bess lays her pretty head at night.” He patted her pillow, paused, and stretched out his arm to run his hand over the poetry book laying on her nightstand. He grinned like a little boy. It made her heart twist to see him smile like that.

_Focus Buffy._

“That’s not why you’re here Spike. Start talking.”

“Y’know pet, I like your room. Not all frills and lace like I imagined it.”

“So glad you approve.” Okay, inside she was glowing at his praise, but he really didn’t need to know that. Hold on, he’d been imagining her room?  “Talk.”

He stood up instead, taking off his coat and hanging it over her vanity’s chair. Returning to the bed he sat back against her headboard so that his legs were stretched out over her comforter. He patted the spot next to him.

_So not a good idea._

Her traitorous legs didn’t agree. Before she knew it she’d sat down on the edge of the bed with her back to him. His hand ghosted along her spine, then a finger hooked the elastic of her pants and tugged her back towards him. Buffy gave up pretending. She pulled her legs up and turned into him. Her knees rested against his thigh and her head found his chest as he brought his arm around her. They both sighed deeply as if a burden had been lifted.

“Talk,” she said again, sounding much less commanding with her face pressed against his shirt. She’d missed his scent so much.

“I want to know why,” he said at last.

“Why what?”

“Why everything. Why does a Slayer as young as you have such a damn powerful death wish? Why do you want to use your death as a way to protect me? Why can’t I stop thinking about you? Why did I spend a bloody boring night watching over you while you slept?” His hand came up and brushed her cheek. “Why can I not stop touching you? Why can’t I bloody kill you? Why aren’t you dusting me right now? Why do you melt when I touch you?” The fingers moved from her cheek to run along her lips. Buffy closed her eyes and darted her tongue out to flick one fingertip. “None of that now, Bess.” His voice was husky. “Or we won’t get much talking done.” Buffy looked up at him through her lashes, pouting. He kissed her nose. “Are those enough ‘why’s’ for you yet? I probably have some more.”

“It’s enough. I just don’t really know how to explain some of it, because it gets complicated really fast and I’m not sure you’ll believe me anyway. And the rest I don’t know. I don’t know why you can’t kill me.” Her hand was resting on his chest, her fingers making nervous little circles over his black T-shirt. “I’d like you to be my death, even now. Then I wouldn’t hurt anymore and you could leave and go be happy with Drusilla somewhere else.”

Spike tensed under her. A growl she could feel more than hear rumbled through his chest. He caught her hand in his. “I can’t, ducks. How’d I get my answers if I offed you now? And Dru and I…” He shook his head. “As of two nights ago there is no more Dru and I.”

Buffy was floored. “Shouldn’t you be drunk or something right now?”

He tweaked a lock of her blond hair, bringing it to his nose before letting it fall back. “We were just done. Didn’t hurt like I expected it to.”  The arm around her pulled her tighter against him. “How about you start in on your complicated explanation. I’ve been around a bit, it might surprise you what I’m willing to believe.”

“This isn’t going to be easy for me,” she cautioned.

“Doubt much ever is for you, Bess.”  

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not the sixteen-year-old Buffy that’s supposed to be here, in this body, mooning over Angel.” Another low growl rolled through Spike. “That girl wouldn’t be thinking about much besides where her next pair of shoes is going to come from. I guess that Buffy is gone, though I can remember what it was like to be her.”

“So who are you then, luv?”

“I’m still Buffy, but from 2004. I have another seven years of baggage attached to me.”  She risked looking up at him. His scarred eyebrow was raised, but he looked more confused than angry or skeptical.

“How’d you end up back here, then?”

“This is the complicated part,” she said, and Spike snorted. She hit him lightly on the chest, “Hush, it’s also the hardest for me to tell.”

“Sorry, I’ll be quiet.”

“Right. I’ll try to make it short. In 2003 we closed the hellmouth, destroying the whole town in the process. There was a lot of mojo involved and it resulted in all potential Slayers actually becoming Slayers.” Buffy could feel him frown but he didn’t say anything. “So, after all that, I was no longer the only chosen one running around. I wasn’t needed like before. Now, I help train the newbies and Xander runs the command center. It’s in Scotland of all places. Willow is off somewhere doing her own witchy thing, and hell if I know where or what Giles is up to. Something with rebuilding the council since it got blown up. We had a big falling out and neither of us are doing much with the reconciling. Dawn’s away at school and I’m pretty much alone.”

“Who’s Dawn?” Spike asked.

“My sister.”

“You have a sister? Does she live here?”

“That’s…problematic. She doesn’t exactly exist yet and she isn’t created by the normal method.  I miss her, a lot. Dawn’s annoying and whiney and I really wish she was here. I’m used to that feeling, to wanting people around that can’t be. I’ve been lonely for a long time now. I forgotten what it’s like to not be grieving.” Realization suddenly hit her. “Wait, you don’t know any of the people I’m talking about. You haven’t met any of my friends. Oh my God, this is too freaking weird.” Buffy hid her face against Spike’s shoulder.

“I can guess, right?” He put a finger under her chin so she was looking back up at him. “Xander and Willow would be the two you were with at that joint where we first met. And Giles is most likely your tweedearing poof of a Watcher.” She nodded and he continued: “But what I’m wondering is where’s Angel in all of this?”

“In L.A., but he’s not that important. Wait, maybe I should go back a minute, because this makes more sense if you know that in 2001 I died closing a portal that a hellgod opened. I was dead for a few months, but my friends couldn’t leave well enough alone. So they brought me back.”

That startled Spike. “Why the hell did the buggers do something that dumb?”

“Because they thought I was in hell.”

“What, a bit of righteousness like you? Guessing you were somewhere all sweetness and light.”  

“Heaven,” she agreed. Why the heck did Spike, and apparently any version of him, have to be the one that understood her the best?

“To top it off, they didn’t realize the spell would return me to right where my body was. I got to wake up in my grave and claw my way out. So there’s something we have in common.”  Buffy couldn’t help the shudder that passed through her, the catch in her breath, the fear that grasped at her.

_Dark. Dirt. Trapped. She couldn’t breathe under the weight of the earth._

Spike’s arm tightened around her as he dragged her on top of him. He kissed her, tenderly, till she wasn’t thinking of anything else. When he stopped she opened her eyes, only to find his blue ones right there, looking deep inside her.

“You’re here now, Bess, with me, not under the dirt. You understand?”

Buffy nodded shakily. She slid back down beside him, it was too distracting to try and talk otherwise and she needed to get this out. “Now you know: I will always have that weirdness in me.”  Spike’s hand was softly rubbing her arm. Anchoring her. “I didn’t really do so well after Sunnydale was gone. My friends were scattered and I had nothing and no one. I tried to put on a brave face and thought that maybe if I faked being fine that one day it’d be the truth. Only it didn’t work. I was empty inside and despair and darkness found their way in.  I started taking all the riskiest missions, but I guess I’m too good because I kept coming back from them.”

“Damn right you’re too good!”

“Shush, let me get through this. Eventually the dark devoured me. I… I…cut the cords on my parachute before a training jump, but someone caught me. I stole a bottle of sleeping pills and washed them all down with a bottle of Jack, but I guess they weren’t a match for Slayer metabolism because I just slept for a night and a day.” Spike had gone motionless beside her. She pressed on. “I was pretty pissed when I woke up to the same ugly world. I slit my wrists in the bath but my Slayer healing kicked in after I passed out. I just woke up freezing cold a couple of hours later. Finally, I sneaked out of headquarters and caught a flight back to California. I drove up to the hole that used to be Sunnydale, and I staked myself.” Spike’s fingers dug into her. “Guess someone got word to Angel though, because he was there. I don’t really know what happened after that until I woke up on life support in the hospital.”

“Why didn’t he stop you?” Spike’s voice was low and angry.

“I didn’t let him. Anyway, I guess my friends went through another round of ‘Buffy doesn’t get to die’. They found some artifact that sent me back in time to give me another chance. I don’t think I was supposed to go this far back, but I wanted to make at least one decision since they didn’t ask me about any of the rest of it.”

“So won’t mucking around in the past mess the future stuff up?” Spike’s brow was knotted, obviously trying to figure out the logic of the impossible.

“Well, the way I understood it is that a separate, alternate universe was formed the moment I arrived here. Everything goes on in the one I originally came from, but poor sixteen-year-old Buffy got obliterated in this one.”

“So what moment did you get here?” He asked, ignoring the other comment.

“I was at the Bronze, studying with Willow.” She smiled shyly up at him. “I asked someone to dance.”

Spike chuckled. “I figured as much. But, Bess, you still haven’t told me what I have to do with this mess.”

“It’s kind of awkward.”

“I’m all ears.”

Buffy hesitated, but this might be her only chance to say the things she needed to. No regrets, she decided, taking a deep breath.

“You were my rock. The one person who was always there. Especially after I came back, you were the only one that understood.” Buffy could hardly breathe as the pain ripped through her. Rolling off the bed she went to stand in front of the window. “I lost you. You died closing the hellmouth.” Spike had gotten up and was standing behind her. “No one understood that you were my everything. That I was lost in the darkness without you.” His hand reached up, weaving itself into her hair. “I died the day you did.” He yanked her roughly back against him, making her yelp. His mouth came down hard on hers.

“I’m here now,” he snarled against her lips. “I found you.” His hand was still in her hair, and he used it to shove her forward so she was forced to grab the window sill for balance. Her pajama pants fluttered to the floor with a single tug. The fingers of his free hand dragged against her sex. “That’s my girl,” he muttered at finding her already wet. He teased her for a moment, rubbing little circles over clit. When his hand left her she cried out in protest.

“Shh,” he whispered. The sound of him undoing his belt buckle and lowering his zipper were loud in her otherwise silent room. She felt his hand again as he positioned his cock against her. Spike filled her in a single thrust. She had to bite her lip to keep quiet, but she couldn’t help the moans she was making low in her throat as he moved inside her.

The pace he set was brutal. Buffy gave up trying to match his thrusts. She pushed up on her toes so he was scraping over her favorite spot with each stroke. Spike groaned as she started clamping her muscles around his pounding cock. Taking all her weight on one hand, she slipped the other between her legs to grind her clit.

Keeping her palm against herself she let two fingers wander back to feel where they were joined. Spike hissed and jerked hard against her when she curled her fingers so the nails scored lightly along his shaft. She only did it a couple of times before she brought her fingers, slick with her cream, to her mouth. She turned her head so Spike could watch her lick them clean. His eyes followed every dart of her tongue. He wordlessly rumbled his appreciation. She returned to stroking herself while dropping her head down to rest on the forearm that was braced on the window sill. Back arching, she pushed back against him.

Grunting, Spike leaned forward, bracing himself against the window frame. The change in depth and angle quickly sent her over the edge. She turned her head and bit Spike’s arm to keep from screaming as stars exploded behind her eyelids. Her orgasm didn’t even make him pause, though she was pretty sure he mumbled: “Good girl,” to her. He pressed his chest against her back and his cheek was resting against the nape of her neck. The rhythm of his hips grew ragged as his own release neared. With a final deep thrust and a muffled exhalation against her throat he came deep inside her. His fingers brushed hers aside and frantically rubbed her clit as his cock continued to pulse with his orgasm. Buffy came again, hard, and she squealed at the unexpected pleasure.

Her vampire hauled her back upright and into a kiss to muffle the noise. They ended up leaning chest to chest, panting, her head tucked into his shoulder.

“No more death talk. I…just…no more,” he finally said. He put a hand on each of her cheeks, forcing her to look up at him. “Promise me, Bess. If you feel that darkness dragging you down, you come to me first. I don’t care about whatever other shit is going on, you come to me first.” She nodded. “I want to hear you say itSlayer.”

“If I feel suicidal, I will come and tell you first.” Buffy felt a little weird saying ‘suicidal’ out loud, as if that made it more real than the acts themselves. He searched her face, then nodded.

A knock at the door made them spring apart. Joyce called through the door: “Buffy, I’ve come to say goodnight. Do you mind if I come in?”

“Closet,” Buffy said, pushing him towards it. She yanked her pajama bottoms back up. Spike was in the closet with the door closed by the time she reached her bed. His coat! She grabbed the duster and tossed on the bed before lying down. Hopefully her body and the corner of her sheet would cover it. Grabbing the first book off the pile next to her bed she opened it to a random place.

Another knock. “Buffy?” Her mom opened the door.

“Sorry, Mom, I was reading.” She held up the book, which was thankfully at least the right way around.

“Well, I’m glad you were so wrapped up in,” Joyce leaned closer to read the title. “ _War and Peace_ that you didn’t catch my knocking the first time.” Buffy was sure she could _hear_ Spike smirk at her.

“Well,” Buffy said, looking down at the novel. “I might have dozed off while reading it.”

“That explains the bed head then.” Joyce chuckled at Buffy’s alarmed expression and attempts to pat the snarl back into place. “Don’t stay up too late. I’m sure tomorrow night Mr. Giles will want you out patrolling, and since I can’t stop you, I do hope you’ll agree to take someone else along for the next little while. Just to make me feel better.”

“Sure thing, Mom, Slayage is always a little more fun with someone else to watch me be awesome.”

“I love you, Buffy, good night.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

The bedroom door clicked closed, and the following few minutes crawled by like years. Finally, Spike emerged from the closet. He’d gotten his pants done back up and his shirt tucked back in. He leaned over her.

“ _War and Peace_ , Bess? Didn’t figure you for a Tolstoy fan.”

“I can read what I want, thank you very much.” She tapped his chest with the book. “Also it was the one on the top of the pile.”

He smiled at her and leaned forward for a kiss. He was gentle and his hand snuck under her only to tug his coat out.

“I better be off, we’ll continue this another time, seeing as you still have a lot of ‘whys’ to answer.”

“I know,” Buffy sighed. She walked him to the window, pulling up the blinds and opening the sash. “When will I see you next?”

“Soon, I’ll not let you alone too long.” He hopped through the window, turning to kiss her again. Then he was down the tree and walking away. The last she could see was the flame of his lighter as he lit a cigarette.

****

Angel watched, hidden in the shadows. He hadn’t seen Spike enter her room but he’d seen the window blinds banging rhythmically against the glass and had watched them kiss when the blond vampire had left.

Jealousy bloomed and grew.


	16. Rubicon

Am I trying much too hard?

            -Sparklehorse, “Jack’s Obsession”

****

The next few days were a whirlwind of lame. Her mom was tense, her friends were tense, and she didn’t see or hear from Spike. So much for soon. Giles went on patrol with her but they didn’t say anything beyond the perfunctory: “I’m heading left” or “There’s a vamp behind you”-type phrases that were necessary for getting the job done.

Buffy was annoyed with her Watcher’s hovering. It meant there was zero chance of seeing Spike on patrol and he didn’t come to her room again either. She'd gotten her hopes up the one time her Slayer senses had warned: vampire. She’d leaned out her window only to see Angel standing in her yard, looking up at her window. She’d given him a half-hearted wave before slamming the sash closed. Spike’s continued absence was starting to really worry her. If Angel or Giles had done something to him, well, they couldn’t hold her responsible for her actions. Her only comfort was that she believed she’d know if he was dust. She’d feel it.

School was boring and her mind had far too much time to wander. While yet again doodling in the margin of her notes in English, she came up with a way to pay Spike back for giving her the poetry book. It was a way to maybe make things work out better, or at least differently, than she remembered. Just a little petty theft was required.

****

It felt like he was in hell. He couldn’t get to her. The last few nights she’d been accompanied by her Watcher on patrols. While usually a single human wouldn’t be an obstacle to something Spike wanted, when it was one he couldn’t kill, and that was armed, it was a bloody effective means of keeping him away. He’d also been unable to return to her room. Angel had been standing vigil from dusk to dawn every sodding night. The Slayer would probably be brassed off if he got into a fight to the death with his Grandsire on her front lawn.

He was going insane without her. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her, heard her, smelt her.  His spark was a constant ache in chest. Did she have any idea what she did to him?

Actually, yeah, she probably did, if in some future time he’d died for her. It was a bit of a mind trip but not half as bad as one that he got from the fact that he’d died for her and the loss had tail spun her into a suicidal depression.

The last few days he’d been having nightmares that she’d succeeded in those attempts she’d told him about. Every time he’d be seconds too late to save her. Waking up over and over again with the image of her sightless green eyes branded into his mind was turning him barmier than Dru.

A few hours ago he’d sat up, screaming.  It’d been the one where she jumped with no parachute. He’d dreamed that her hand slipped through his and she’d plummeted to the earth. Only this time he’d found himself undoing the buckles of his own parachute harness and joining her. There wasn’t a world for him without her in it. Spike had awoken seconds before he would have smashed into the ground.

If the sun hadn’t been up, he would have rushed to her side. As it was he was sitting on his heels next to the door waiting for the light to fade. It didn’t matter what obstacles stood in his way, he was going to see Buffy tonight. The spark flared and burned in agreement.

****

Stealing the du Lac book from Giles’ office had been ridiculously easy. The theft didn’t even make Buffy feel bad, after all she did have the good intention of keeping any vampires out of the school. She tucked the book deep down into her school bag to hide it.

The hardest part of the day was when Ford showed up and sat down next to her with a grin on his deceitful face. He made her feel like she was a ghost haunting her own past again. She pasted a big fake smile on for him, nodding like she believed all his lies. In her mind the sequence of him rising from his grave and her dusting him was playing on a continuous loop.

_Rise, dust, rise, dust._

She couldn’t do it, not again. It was too much. And who was she to judge? If he wanted to choose when and how he died, so be it. She just didn’t want it to involve her staking his demon-possessed corpse again. The universe at least owed her that much of a break.

Beside her, Ford was cracking up at something. He was happy and animated. Buffy tried to imagine him dying of cancer, body emaciated and no longer under his control. He didn’t deserve that. Damn it, she didn’t deserve this, having to sit here next to an old friend while trying to think of the best way for him to die. She’d already had to grieve him once.

There were only a few actions of his over the next couple of days that Buffy was completely sure about. The most important one of those was that Ford was going to make a deal with Spike. Though hadn’t that had something to do with the vampire that stole the du Lac book? She frowned. Things couldn’t go exactly the same now since she had already taken the book. There’d have to be a plan B involved because if she could get Ford to Spike, well, she had an unchipped, unsouled vampire at her disposal. As she remembered it, he’d been the one to kill Ford. There was no reason Spike couldn’t do it again and simply not turn Ford. Problem solved.  Buffy just needed to see her vampire as soon as possible to work it out with him.

Her stomach clenched. The Slayer handbook–that she’d still never read–probably had some rule against asking a vampire to kill someone.

_But Ford is already seven years dead to you._

History was simply repeating itself, just with a little twist.

Buffy knew she’d totally lost track of the conversation going on around her. At least Xander looked a lot more relaxed than she remembered. Apparently finding out, rather traumatically, that your friend had gotten busy with the undead on Halloween put childhood crushes into perspective.

“Hey!” Willow said to Ford. “Are you busy tonight?”

“I’m hoping you’ll tell me that I am,” he replied smoothly.

Buffy managed to not roll her eyes, instead putting a hand lightly on his forearm. “We’re going to the Bronze. It’s the local club and you gotta come.”

Ford readily agreed to join them, and Buffy was only a little annoyed when he excused himself to continue with his fake school admission process.

“He seems like an okay guy,” Xander said when Ford had left.

Buffy shrugged. “That’s how I’d put it: an okay guy.”

Xander patted her shoulder. “We get it Buff. He’s not your type, being among the living with that pesky heartbeat.”

She stood up. “Bite me, Xander,” she told him, but with a smile.

“Only if you ask very, very nicely. There’s no telling where that neck of yours has been.”

“Xander!” Willow exclaimed, looking horrified.

“It’s fine,” Buffy said. “He’s just teasing.” Xander did look embarrassed. He opened his mouth like he was going to apologize but Buffy cut him off. “Now be nice!” She wagged her finger at him. “Or I will tell you exactly where it’s been.”

****

The Bronze was hopping when Buffy got there. Ford was already present, talking to Xander and Willow at one of the many tables. She said hello before threading her way through the crowded room to the bar, only to run into Angel.

“Hey Buffy,” he said, smiling at her. “You’re looking nice tonight.” He had several drinks in his hands and passed her a coke.

“Any Jack in this?” She asked, holding up the glass. Buffy had been hoping for a Sprite, but it was so typically Angel to not ask her what she wanted that she didn’t even bother complaining.

“I wasn’t planning to contribute to the delinquency of minors tonight,” Angel answered. “But I might beat Xander at a game or two of pool.”

Buffy felt like she was missing something. Angel was dressed impeccably in slacks and a light blue shirt with the collar open. His hair was neatly combed and styled and she could swear she smelled cologne on him.

She shook her head. She must be imagining things. The Bronze was so crowded she could be smelling any number of people.  “Angel, wait a minute.” She grabbed his sleeve, halting him before they got back to the others. “I need to warn you: the new guy, Ford, he’s obsessed with vampires.” Angel made a face, “Yeah, exactly. Also he knows I’m the Slayer, I guess he figured it out back in LA.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Just be careful.” She squeezed his arm before letting go. He walked on ahead of her and Buffy quickly did a full spin, looking to see if Spike might be somewhere in the crowd. Wanting to see him was quickly turning into desperation. She let out a frustrated snort when she didn’t find him and hurried to catch up with Angel.

Introductions were made. Buffy felt uncomfortable as Xander and Ford good-naturedly sniped at each other. Billy Fordham was already dead to her. The guys started racking up the pool balls, arguing about who would play the first round.  Angel lost and came to stand next to Buffy.

She sipped her drink and waited. After a long, uncomfortable silence, she gave up. “Why are you here Angel?”

He sighed, loudly. “I…I…” His hands were in tight fists at his side. “I’m trying Buffy, I’m trying to be your friend.”

She couldn’t help but think about Spike saying, a long time ago, that she and Angel could never be friends. Was that still true? Had she short-circuited things early enough to allow them a chance at having a non-romantic relationship? Or because she still carried the pain would it seep out and poison things? Did she even want to try, knowing what she did about him?

Buffy looked up at the vampire, but he was staring off into space. “Hey,” she said, lightly touching his arm again. Angel looked at her, turmoil in his eyes. “Thank you. For trying. It means more than you can know.” Relief flooded his face.

“Can I help you with anything? Is something going on with this guy?” He gestured to where Ford was lining up a shot.

She shook her head. “No worries, I think I got it covered.” She grabbed her drink off the table.

There was a pause.

“Do you want to dance?” Angel asked, his soft brown eyes finding hers.

Buffy did a double take. Angel, at the Bronze, asking her to dance? He couldn’t have done this seven years ago? It would have meant the world to her then. Now he was simply the wrong guy. Even thinking about Angel with his arms holding her on the same dancefloor where she and Spike had wrapped themselves around each other that first night made her feel vaguely ill. 

With a shake of her head, she declined. “It’s way too hot and crowded. Maybe later.”  She took a sip of her drink. He looked disappointed. Buffy had the creeping suspicion that the nice clothes and attention to personal detail might have something to do with her. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

Had he come here tonight to woo her? She’d slept with Spike and all of a sudden Angel felt the need to court her? He’d never had to before. She’d made the whole relationship thing easy by dissolving into goo whenever he was around. Angel had never had to work to have her, but that was before she’d tossed a Spike-shaped gauntlet in front of him. Buffy really hoped Angel didn’t actually expect her to swoon over a change of clothes and a gallon of Old Spice.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when one of Angel’s hands landed on her shoulder and squeezed. “I’m going to go eavesdrop. See if I can learn anything about this guy,” he said close to her ear.

Nodding, Buffy finished her coke in one long gulp and used taking her glass back to the bar as another excuse to get away for a moment and look for Spike. It wasn’t like she knew he was going to show, but she had a hunch that he’d be there somewhere. He was like a bad penny.

Furtively, she glanced around as she dumped the empty glass onto the scarred wood of the bar. There were too many people. She stood on tiptoes and craned her neck back and forth. Bingo! Buffy was sure she saw a flash of familiar bleached blond hair by the back door. The crush of bodies was annoying and she had to really try not to use Slayer strength as she made her way towards him. The tinglies telling her ‘vampire’ and ‘Spike’ intensified the closer she got until, at last, she was standing right next to him. He was leaning casually against the wall next to the exit, flipping a cigarette butt out the door while blowing the last puff of smoke in her direction.

“Hello cutie,” he rumbled. Buffy melted. He wrapped a strong arm around her waist as she sagged against his chest. “Glad to see you too,” he said in her ear before kissing her breathless.

It was several minutes before she came back down to earth enough to push herself a little bit away from him. Spike growled, his hand on her back hardening in order to keep her against him.

“We need to talk. Just for a second,” Buffy panted. “I have a favor to ask.”

That got his attention. He looked down at her questioningly, his scarred eyebrow raised.

“First, I need to give you this.” She tried to get to her purse but it was impossible in their close embrace. His hand finally fell away from behind her, letting her take a step back. She could tell he didn’t like it.

From her bag she pulled the book she’d stolen from her Watcher and handed it to the vampire.

“What’s this, Bess?” he asked, flipping through the pages. “Looks like Latin.”

“I think it is, but in some kind of crazy code. You have to have the key. It’s in a cemetery around here. I drew you a map and stuck it in the front of the book.” He took out the sheet of paper and glanced at it before dropping it, and the book, into the pocket of his duster.

“And what good does this do me?” He asked.

“Well, it’s got the ritual you need to make…” Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat. “To make Drusilla better.”  The Slayer suddenly found herself pinned up against the wall with Spike’s hand around her throat. But he didn’t tighten his grip. Looking up into his eyes she could see all the confusion roiling there. “Don’t try and tell me you’re not still looking for a way to make her better. I know you too darn well.”

With a nod, his hand fell to her shoulder. He roughly pulled her against him into a crushing embrace.

“I cornered her and asked her about it the other day.” His voice was raw. “She said I didn’t need to worry. That everything would be taken care of.”

Buffy burrowed into his shoulder. “So give the book to her.” He nodded. “Can I ask you that favor now?”

“Shoot, luv.” She was pressed so tight against him that she could feel the vibrations of his throat as he spoke.

For a minute Buffy hesitated. She was doing something that was probably unforgivable. Only what choice did she have? What choice did Ford have? “There’s a guy with us tonight, his name’s Ford. He’s got a brain tumor and not a lot of time left. His brilliant solution is to become a vampire.”

“And he’s planning to manage that one how?”

“He’s going to come to you and offer me up on a silver platter.”

Spike chuckled. “Not too bright is he? Want me to send him packing?”

“No,” Buffy sighed. “I want you to kill him.”

“Come again?”

“He doesn’t want a slow death. If you turn him down, he’ll just try to find another vamp. So kill him. Only promise me you won’t turn him.”

“Let me get this straight,” Spike cupped her face in his hand, looking deep into her eyes. “The bloody fucking Slayer wants a vampire to kill someone for her.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I don’t want to have to dust him again.”

Buffy saw the light bulb go on over Spike’s head. “So what’s the plan?” he asked.

“Later, I’ll leave with him.” Spike’s fingers bit into her face and side. “Just to walk home, and annoy Angel.” That made his mouth quirk and he released his death grip. "Send a couple of disposable minions with orders not to kill him. I’ll dust one and the other can take him to meet you. When he shows you can do whatever, though I’d appreciate it if you’d make it fast. And, as I said, no turning him.”

“Got it,” Spike smirked at her. “But I do say that’s an awful lot to ask, what with no payment.”

“I don’t exactly have a steady income at the moment. Being a high school student pays like crap.” Her annoyance made her voice clipped.

He chuckled again. “I wasn’t talking money, Bess.” His tongue curled behind his teeth, and Buffy’s mind raced. She was so not ignoring the dare in his tone.

“Is there somewhere we can be alone for a few minutes?” Her voice was low and husky.

Spike looked shocked. She guessed he hadn’t actually expected her to agree. Eyes darting back and forth, he grabbed her hand and headed down the hallway, away from the main part of the club. The first door he tried was locked, but the second opened onto a janitor’s closet with a single bare bulb overhead. He slammed the door behind them and locked it.

“Now what you got in mind, luv?”

Buffy dropped her purse on the ground. Pressing tightly against him she pushed up on her toes, biting his lower lip as she drew him into a kiss.  She untucked his black t-shirt, sliding her fingers up the hard, cool muscles of his torso. They tightened under her hands, then jumped as she raked her fingernails back down to grab his belt. He nipped her lip in retaliation, drawing a few drops of blood that he greedily sucked at.

“Do it again, with the fangs,” she whispered. Her hands were undoing his belt buckle. A growl escaped him when his demon came to the fore. She worked the zipper to his jeans as he slammed his mouth back over hers. When he seemed reluctant to actually bite, Buffy shoved her tongue hard against his fangs, opening several gashes and filling their mouths with blood. Hungrily, the demon gulped what she offered. After he’d swallowed a few times, Buffy broke the kiss by dropping to her knees. Spike’s whimper of protest changed to a gasp as she pulled his erect cock out of his pants.

Roughly, he shoved his jeans down to give her better access. Turning her green eyes upwards she made sure he was watching. Her tongue was still trickling blood and she left a red trail as she licked him from base to tip. The blood smeared as she brought her hand up to stroke his thick shaft. With her other she made sure his foreskin was retracted before bracing herself against his hip. Never breaking eye contact, she drew the swollen head of his cock into her mouth.

Spike was breathing in hard gasps of unneeded air. She knew the scent of her blood was filling the small space and had to be driving him mad. Her tongue rolled around the tip of his cock, then flicked over the slit at the very end. The slight taste of him made her gasp and suck greedily. She regained control and pulled back, releasing him with soft, wet pop. Continuing to grip him with her right hand, she used her lips and teeth to nibble and nip along one side and then the other of his shaft.

Her vampire growled in frustration, and brought a heavy hand to grip the hair at the back of her head. She let him yank her so the dark pink head was again between her lips, but she wouldn’t let him rush it. Both her hands were wrapped around his shaft, and with an agonizing slowness she slid as much of him as she could fit into her mouth. Bobbing her head, she began to suck in earnest. With every stroke she brought her tongue up, pushing slightly to increase the sensation. Spike had both hands on her head now and was eagerly fucking her face. Her pussy was wet and crying out for attention, but this was all for him. Hopefully he could smell her arousal along with her blood.

When his sack tightened and she knew he was close to his peak, Buffy dropped one hand from his shaft to fondle his balls. Gently, she cupped them while her fist and mouth kept up the brutal rhythm his hands were demanding. “Oh god, Bess!” he moaned. He gasped, claws tangling in her hair. “Buffy!” he barked has he came, slamming his cock so deep into her mouth that she could barely taste his cum as her throat worked to swallow it down.

When he was spent he reluctantly pulled out of her mouth, tucking himself away and sitting down hard on the floor in front of her. The demon receded, and gingerly Spike pulled her into his lap.

He simply held her for a long moment, then asked, sounding a bit sheepish: “Did I hurt you, pet?”

“No, silly. Slayer, remember?” Buffy was humming with self-satisfied pride. That’d been for all the times she could have done something like that and hadn’t. The birthday party when Dawn had gotten them stuck in the house, the countless times during that last year they’d shared. Always she’d had an excuse. A reason why she couldn’t or shouldn’t. Every last one had been meaningless.

Fuck excuses.

Spike’s fingers twitched against her. “I think I owe you, Bess.”

“Soon,” she said in his ear. Even though she ached to be touched, Buffy wiggled off him and stood up. “I have to get back, everyone’s probably wondering what happened to me.” She collected her purse. “Remember, two minions ready to go shortly and whatever you do, don’t turn Ford.”

“Got it,” he said quietly. She nodded and left him sitting there with a stunned look on his face.

Buffy stopped in the girl’s bathroom, making sure she didn’t look too much like she’d just been up to no good with a vampire in a closet. Willow walked out of a stall while the Slayer was applying a new coat of lipstick

“There you are!” The redhead smiled at Buffy in the mirror while washing her hands. “We were wondering where you’d gotten off too.”

“Sorry, Slayer stuff. I totally heard this girl from second period English talking about this weird thing that’d happened to her, so I eavesdropped to make sure it wasn’t too weird, y’know?”

“And was it?” Willow asked.

“Was it what?”

“Weird.”

“Oh.” Buffy tried to appear casual, she still needed to work on her cover stories. “Uh, no. I think it was the plot of some foreign movie or something. Whatever, let’s get back.” She linked her arm with Willow’s and they made their way to the pool table where Ford was leaning over to line up a shot.

“Look what I found!” Willow chirped, and let go of Buffy’s arm so that they could perch on the high stools at the table. Angel was propped up against the other side. As soon as she sat down Buffy saw a crease form in between his eyebrows and he turned, giving her a dark look. She could see his nostrils flare-

 _Oh, shit!_ She tried not to breathe, but the look on the vampire's face told her he’d already figured everything out. And boy, did he look pissed.

“Angel,” she squeaked, still trying to not breathe. “Can you get me a drink?”

“Yeah, sure.” He walked off and she huffed a big sigh. "Tell me who's winning?" Buffy put on her best million-watt smile and tried to look interested.

The Bronze was still busy, so it was nearly twenty minutes before Angel got back with her drink. Buffy had moved over to the pool table with Willow so they could chat with the boys easier.  He dropped the glass in her hand and quickly moved to the other side of the table.

Willow frowned at the glass Buffy was holding. "What is that?" she asked.

"Cape Cod," Buffy said, downing the contents in one gulp. "It's mostly cranberry juice."  She risked glancing at Angel, but he was still staring daggers at her. Willow was looking between the two of them, obviously confused.

Buffy plunked the glass down. She continued to watch the game, trying to give Spike enough time to get things in place. Angel’s gaze never left her. Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer and walked over to Ford. “Hey, it’s getting way too hot in here and I really need some air. Can you walk me home?”

“Uh, sure. Nice meeting you,” he said to Angel, who briefly interrupted glowering at Buffy to give him a curt nod.

“I’ll see you guys later!” Buffy called to Xander and Willow. She linked her arm through Ford’s as they headed out.


	17. Good Intentions

Cry out for everything you ever might have wanted

            -Big Country, “In a Big Country”

 ****

“How are you liking Sunnydale?” Ford asked as they walked away from the Bronze. Buffy was scanning every shadow, on high alert for the attack she’d asked for. This was seriously with the crazy. She hoped she’d given Spike enough time to set things in motion.

“Everything okay?” Ford squeezed her arm.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just kind of distracted.”

"So I see. What was with the tension between you and that Angel guy?"

Buffy sighed. "Angel's a little intense. He thinks he needs to be my boyfriend but I'm not into him like that. It makes any and all social situations we're both in pretty awkward."

"Ah, but you must have some kind of feelings for the guy, otherwise you wouldn't have wanted to piss him off so badly by leaving with me."

"It's a long, long story, but you're not exactly wrong." Buffy ran a hand through her hair, trying to keep her nerves from showing.

The clash of a trashcan lid in an ally to their right made them both jump.

"I better go check it out," she said, taking off before he had time to respond. Down the ally and behind a dumpster she found a tall, male vampire with shaggy brown hair and only one shoe. He growled and slobbered at her. Buffy grinned before she turned and took off running back the way she came. Heavy footfalls behind her let her know she was being pursued.

Bursting back out of the mouth of the ally, she saw Ford being held in mid-air by a blonde female vamp in full gameface. He looked terrified, but was nodding eagerly at whatever she was telling him. Buffy's footsteps made the blonde vamp turn towards the Slayer. With a snarl she dropped Ford and fled.

Satisfied, Buffy grabbed a stake from her coat pocket and spun to face her attacker. The idiot wasn't able to stop in time and tripped over his own feet, falling right onto the piece of wood in her hand. The resultant dust cloud made her sneeze.

"Huh," she grunted. That hadn't been much fun. Spike had probably sent that reject after her just to be rid of his dumb ass.

"Whoa, Buffy." Ford sounded impressed. "Did you just slay a vampire?"

"He sort of helped." She flapped her arm against her side trying to shake off the dust.

"I heard you were the Slayer, but that was just so cool."

"Thanks. I aim to please." She smiled at him, twirled her stake around her hand, and put it back in her pocket. "Well, let's get walking. Keep your eyes open for any more baddies but at the same time you have to tell me about our mutual friends in L.A. It's been pretty hard to keep up on the gossip here."

The rest of the walk home was actually fun as Ford rambled on about people she’d known since childhood. When they reach her house there was a moment of awkward silence. Impulsively, she gave him a hug.

"It was good to see you." She rubbed his back. It was true. It was good to see him, it eased that memory of him rising from the dirt of the grave, fangs in place.

"Night, Buffy." Ford kissed the top of her head. He stepped back, turned and walked away, throwing a little wave over his shoulder. She wished that he would change his mind, that he wouldn't attempt to offer her up as vamp food, but deep inside she knew he'd already made his choice. To him she was expendable.

****

For the first time in a long time Ford felt good. The lion’s den had been conquered and he’d come out unscathed. With this deal he didn’t have to waste away from the cancer. He had a plan. Walking down the dirty alley he kicked trash out of his way. As soon as he could after he was turned he’d leave this bunch, no living like a filthy animal for him. He’d go to Europe, see the Louvre and the Berlin Wall.

Lost in his thoughts of the future, the young man screamed in surprise when a cold hand clamped on the back of his neck, tossing him easily to the ground.  Scrambling to his hands and knees he took great gulps of air to try and get his breath back. A black pair of boots walked past him, a black leather coat swishing with each step. Ford was hauled back upright. He raised his head to look at the fangs and wild yellow eyes of the vampire.

“Spike!” Ford squeaked. “I thought we had a deal.”

“I got me a better one,” Spike said. He let go of Ford and the young man staggered but didn’t fall.

“But I swear: I can get you the Slayer,” Ford panted, fear making him choke.

Spike threw his head back and laughed. “I’ve bloody well had the Slayer. From the front, the back, and most recently on her knees.” He crudely mimed having his hand on her head, enjoying the kid’s shocked expression.

“Buffy?” Ford asked weakly.

“Thought you knew something about her?”

Ford shook his head. The fear was overwhelming; he couldn’t even make his feet move. Hope faded. This dark, dirty alley was where he was going to die.

****

“She said I can play with you any way I want, long as I don’t turn you.” With inhuman speed Spike grabbed the front of Ford’s shirt again. “But I’m bored now.”  He could just snap the human’s neck, be done with this. The ache in his chest was becoming insistent. He needed to go find his Bess. What would she be doing? Out patrolling, maybe, but it was getting late for that. Maybe she’d just be at home curled up in bed, warm and soft.

Spike was suddenly angry at the young man in his grasp. He had to deal with the git before going to Buffy. Ford was struggling and clawing ineffectively at the vampire’s arm, finally trying to get away. Spike shook him. The kid was scared. If he let the berk go with a warning to never set foot in Sunnydale again, Spike could be on his way with no waiting. Only the Slayer was bound to find out and get mad at him. Would she be upset enough to no longer want to see him?

Icy fear stabbed through his middle. Even the shard went silent. He couldn’t lose her. Not now, not ever. Best do what she said, then.

Spike savagely bit into Ford’s throat, drinking fast. He could taste, just barely, the illness the Slayer had told him about. He’d have to remember to let her know, she liked being right. Would her hair be up in a ponytail, or loose across the pillows?

_Golden waves in the moonlight._

He hurt. Would this idiot kid’s parents miss him? Would they have treasured another few months with him? Another few seconds? Buffy would tell him that Ford had made his own choice, which was true, but why had it fallen to Spike to carry out the execution?

Something was very wrong with him. He needed his girl.

Shaking, Spike laid Ford’s drained body gently down on the ground. He brushed his hand across the boy’s face to close his eyes. With a shake of his head the demon was gone. Nothing made sense. His chest burned.

“I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry,” he muttered to the dead body.

Spike shoved himself back to his feet. He stumbled out of the alley and headed towards Buffy’s house. So much death. He was death. So much pain.

She’d make it better.

****

Buffy was dreaming about chocolate when a noise woke her. Looking over to her window, her eyes met Spike’s wide blue ones. She frowned. He looked…desperate. His hair was tousled and sticking up at odd angles, like he’d been running his hands through it over and over. Picking up the edge of her comforter she pulled it back in an obvious invitation. Without a sound he dropped into her room, making quick work of his clothes before snuggling in beside her. He was cold from outside, and gooseflesh erupted up and down her arms and legs as he pressed himself against her.

Buffy reached down and pulled the old t-shirt she was wearing as pajamas up and over her head. Then he was kissing her and fire lighted deep in her belly. There was the faintest hint of blood in his mouth, but she didn’t pull away. She knew what he'd done, what she'd asked him to do.

His hands were all over her, stroking and petting. Buffy let her own hands roam over his strong back. He tweaked her nipple and she moaned into his mouth. Bracing a hand, Spike rolled them so he was over her, still ravaging her mouth with his own.

“I…I...don’t…never again,” he whispered between kisses. She stilled under him and pulled away from his mouth.

“Spike? Never again what?” Panic fluttered to life in her stomach. Was he saying goodbye to her? Her hands tightened on his shoulders. She wouldn’t survive him leaving.

“It hurts.” He freed one of her hands from his shoulder and laid it lightly over his chest. “Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!” His eyes were unfocused. “It burns, Bess. It burns because the vorpal blade went snicker-snack and now the boy is dead and the Jabberwock goes free.” He dropped his head to her shoulder. Buffy ran the fingers of her free hand over the soft skin on the back of his neck.

What was going on? He wasn’t making sense. It was like when she’d found him in the basement of the new school. When he’d been reeling from the soul. But…that was impossible.

_What had she done?_

“One two! One two!” he muttered against her skin.

There’d been an echo in the time-stream. Her memories of the trip back were elusive, but she knew that right at the end she hadn’t been alone. Had some part of Spike’s soul come back with her?

_And you asked him to kill._

“Spike, before tonight, what have you been eating?” Her hand rested against his cheek, bringing his head up so she could look him in the eye.

“Black market at Willy’s. Through and through, Slayer, through and through.” He kissed her again, searchingly. “And hast though slain the Jabberwock?” he murmured into her mouth.

_I don’t know!_

“You’re safe now. Here, with me. I’ll keep you safe. Never again, I promise never again,” she barely held back her tears, not wanting to frighten him. He planted little kisses on her cheek, her jaw, her ear. His lips and tongue worshiped the column of her throat before he lightly bit her over her pulse point. Her lust, which had been ebbing as her mind as gone into overdrive, returned in full force. She bucked up against him and made inarticulate sounds of need deep in her chest. Her hands grasped at his hips and ass, trying to pull him closer. “I need you,” she panted. “William, please, make love to me.”

“All mimsy were the borogroves,” he whispered as his mouth left her neck to nip at the pointed tip of one breast. “And the mome raths outgrabe,” he told the other nipple before delicately sucking it into his mouth.  It felt beyond good and she moaned her enjoyment. He laved her breasts with his tongue before running it down her stomach. When he reached the dark curls between her legs he used his teeth to bite and lightly pull at them. With eyes shut, Spike pushed his nose inbetween her labia, taking deep breaths.

Buffy was propped up on her elbows, watching. “If you say one thing about ‘Bandersnatch’ while you’re down there I swear you’ll unlive to regret it!” His eyes snapped open and he grinned up at her, just like she’d hoped he would.  The sight of Spike naked, sprawled out her bed with his head between her thighs and smiling wide enough to get his dimples to show, was threatening to make her spontaneously combust. In a rush she forgave her friends for sending her back. This was worth repeating high school.

His eyes were clear now as they gazed at her. “Your turn, luv,” he purred, lowering his head back to her pussy. The sensation of his cold tongue against her warmth had Buffy rolling her hips jerkily up against him. He pushed her thighs wide in order to open her to his greedy mouth.

His clever tongue licked and rolled across her clit. She fisted the sheets as he noisily sucked and lapped at her. Her entire body was shuddering, the muscles of her inner thighs twitching too hard for her to even move them. Letting go of the sheet with one hand she tangled her fingers in his hair. She was close, very close, to coming. Only she wanted to be able to feel all of him when she did. 

“Spike, please,” she whispered, pulling at his hair. “I need you inside of me.”  He prowled back up her body, kissing her with lips that tasted of her own arousal.  With a growl he slowly slid his cock into her, taking his weight on one hand while pinning her hips with the other to keep her from rushing the connection. It wasn’t until he’d pushed himself entirely inside her that he let go. Buffy curled one leg up over his hip and entwining the other around his. Their arms clutched at one another, pressing as much skin together as possible. Mouths locked together, their tongues spiraled as their hips rocked and ground against each other. The rest of the world dropped away and they were the only two beings in existence.

****

Angel had tried to stay away. The night had been such a disaster already and it wasn’t even one a.m. yet.  He didn’t need to park himself outside Buffy’s window, but it was a habit he wasn’t able to break. To show himself he wasn’t completely out of control he stood in the shadow of a house across the street.

He didn’t understand Buffy anymore. It hurt that she’d barred him from his house. The Slayer didn’t want him, she tolerated him as something useful, but he’d been tossed aside so she could play the whore with Spike.

Fresh anger tightened his chest. Angel had wanted to slap her when she’d left him playing pool at the Bronze only to come back stinking of Spike and arousal. To top it off she’d had had the bleach blond’s cum on her breath. Angel hadn’t even seen the other vampire. Which was probably a good thing since he would have stuck a pool cue through Spike’s chest for turning the Slayer into a slut if he had. Only if Spike was dust he’d never be able to see the look in his eyes again when the idiot realized he’d been bested. Angel hungered for that look. The memory of the boy’s shock when he’d realized Drusilla wasn’t really his girl still gave Angel a warm glow.

He should have said something instead of jumping like a trained monkey when she’d asked him for a drink. Not that the alcohol hadn’t really been for his benefit. Liquor to cover the scent of her sin. 

Angel’s conscious needled him, because he knew if she’d taken his hand and dragged him to a back hallway, or bathroom stall, and offered to please him with her mouth he wouldn’t have said no. For a moment he was lost in the fantasy, her big green eyes looking up at him while his cock filled her mouth. Then he snapped back to reality, because it had been god-damned Spike enjoying that just a few hours ago. Angel ran a hand over his face. Captain Peroxide and he were going to need to hash a few things out soon.

Speak of the devil…

Angel watched Spike striding purposefully down the street, not looking anywhere but straight ahead. At Buffy’s house he made his way quickly up to her bedroom window, opening it wide. There was a pause, then he was through and Angel could no longer see him.

Angel waited, and watched. The minutes ticked by but the bedroom light never came on, and he couldn’t see anyone moving around. What was going on? Angel missed witnessing Buffy asleep, relaxed and innocent-looking in her slumber. Had Spike taken his place, guarding her while she slept? Angel chuckled to himself. No, whatever Spike was up to, it would not be anything good. Drusilla’s little toy had to have himself an ulterior motive. Angel just didn’t have a clue what that would be.

The blond had looked like he was on a mission tonight. Angel grimaced as the images playing in his mind became Buffy with her throat ripped open, blood soaking the mattress of her bed. It was entirely possible that Spike had been playing a game with her, after all, he’d learned from the best. She’d welcome Spike into her home, her room, her arms- and then he’d strike, betraying that trust and draining her life. Angel was across the street and up to Buffy’s wide open window in a second, expecting the worse. Peering inside, his face fell and he felt absurd, because what was happening was something he hadn’t let himself consider. Spike and Buffy were completely entwined around each other, hips rocking together in a primal dance. Angel watched, transfixed as Buffy broke the kiss, making little breathy cries.

“Open your eyes,” Spike whispered. Her eyelids fluttered and she locking onto his gaze. “Now fall, luv, it’s ok, Spike’s here to catch you.” And to Angel’s surprise she did. Her body first stiffened then undulated rapidly under the blond vampire. Spike’s mouth was back on hers, drinking her moans of passion. “Good girl,” Spike murmured, his words muffled against her lips. “That’s a good girl.”

Angel dropped back to the ground, both aroused and disgusted.  There had to be a way to end this. Maybe it was time he went and visited Drusilla, she couldn't be too thrilled with her plaything being out and about with the Slayer constantly. After all, Angel knew where Spike was going to be for a while. Casting one last seething look at the open window, the vampire took off into the night, heading for the factory.


	18. Wounds

You were meant to be here

            -Emerson, Lake & Palmer, “From the Beginning”

****

Drusilla proved easy to find. Angel simply followed the sound of her voice. It’d been decades since he’d last seen her, but of course she hadn’t changed at all. Her dark beauty was accented by a deep purple dress that looked like it could easily be a century old. A black felt top hat was perched on her dark curls.  

Wearing a closed-lipped smile, she was standing next to a tea-table cobbled together out of various refuse from around the factory.  Chairs of various heights and makes were placed around it, and a tea set of delicate white and pink bone china was arranged on top. The teapot itself was set over a warmer and judging from the smell it wasn’t filled with water. Drusilla wasn’t completely alone. A thin faced and miserable looking minion was seated on the far side of the table, he was sporting what looked like a pair of fake, fuzzy pink rabbit ears. Next to him, face down, was a balding man in a business suit. He was very dead. Nestled here and there among the teacups and sugar bowls were some of Dru’s dolls. Every single one had a piece of cloth bound around its eyes.

Angel slid out the shadows and sauntered towards his Childe. She squealed and bounced up and down on her toes, clapping her hands in delight. “Drusilla,” he purred, smiling at her enthusiasm.

“Daddy, it’s been so long. Won’t you please come to tea?” She gestured with one black lace covered hand to an empty chair. Angel stopped in front of her, gazing down at the woman he once considered his greatest achievement. Placing one finger under her chin he tilted her head back so he could brush a chaste kiss across her nose. Drusilla giggled, and one of her hands ghosted over his forehead. “Your hair wants cutting,” she whispered.

“I’m not here for a social call. I needed to-”

“But this party is for you! So you have to sit down and play nice.” Dru looked up at him through her lashes and a little frown turned the corners of her mouth down.

Angel rubbed a hand against his thigh. She must be in one of her moods. If he tried to force her into answering she might just clam up or start crying. With Drusilla it was always best just to go along with her. “Sure, sweetheart.” He walked around the table and sat in the empty chair she’d pointed to. Dru smiled beatifically and sat demurely on the piano bench that’d been placed at the head of the table. “Who are your other guests?”

She pointed with a long finger to the unhappy looking vampire in bunny ears. “That’s Alfonso.” The vamp shifted into gameface upon hearing Dru say his name. He turned terror stricken eyes to Angel, who shrugged. It wasn’t his job to save idiots from his Childe’s whims. “And that,” she gestured to the dead body. “Is Mr. Loir.”  Drusilla cocked her head to the side. “He says it’s very nice to meet you and not to worry: it’s not him in the teapot. He wouldn’t fit.”

“It’s nice to meet him, too.” Angel leaned forward. “Dru, do you know what Spike’s been up to?”

Drusilla gasped and her hand fluttered to her throat. “Angel! How rude! You’ve only just sat down. Won’t you have some wine?”

Angel sighed. The vampire on the other side of him tapped his arm. “What?” Angel snapped.

“Um.” The vampire’s yellow eyes darted towards Drusilla for a moment before returning to study the china cup in front him. “My name’s not Alfonso, it’s Steve.”

Angel’s face darkened. Why would this pock-marked fool think he could gainsay his betters? “The Lady,” Angel said between gritted teeth. “Said your name is Alfonso, therefore your name is Alfonso.” The cowed minion slumped in defeat, nodding his head and making the pink bunny ears bob. Looking up and down the table Angel could see nothing but the tea set. “Drusilla, I don’t see any wine.”

“Silly me, there isn’t any, I must have forgot.” She was perched on the edge of the piano bench, dark eyes glittering. Angel frowned. He had no idea what game the dark beauty was playing. “Alfonso,” she cooed.

 The scrawny minion jumped and swallowed hard. “Yes, Mistress?”

“Can you please wake up Mr. Loir? He seems to have fallen asleep and I’d so like for him to tell us a story.” Dru ran a lace-clad finger around the rim of her empty tea cup.

Pink bunny ears swaying, the vampire turned to the dead body next to him. Mr. Loir looked like he’d been lying there for some time. His eyes were slightly bugged out and an expression of horror was frozen on his face. Angel shifted uncomfortably on his chair. There was nothing he could do to save the man but his soul was letting him now that the situation was seriously messed up. The man probably had a family that was missing him.

Alfonso poked the dead man’s cheek. “Hey! Guy…uh…Mr. Loir, wake up! You need to tell us a story!”

“Thank you, Alfonso.” Dru stood and sashayed her way behind Angel, drawing a sharp nail along his shoulders as she passed. She stopped next to the dead body and looked intently at it, occasional nodding her head and humming her agreement with something only she could hear.  Alfonso and Angel exchanged a few uneasy glances but neither was willing to interrupt. The minutes stretched on. Mr. Loir must have started making jokes because Dru was now smiling and giggling. Angel closed his eyes, sighing. How did Spike put up with this decade after decade?

The sound of the heels of Drusilla’s shoes tapping on the concrete made Angel flinch and open his eyes. Dru was swaying, dancing to the music in her head. “Do you want to know what he said?” she asked, her tongue swirling over her red lips.

“I have the feeling you’re going to tell me.” Angel crossed his arms over his chest.

Drusilla stilled. She tilted her head forward so that the brim of the top hat cast a shadow over her face. Slowly, she slunk towards Angel. “Mr. Loir told me a nice little story. All about a mean man that ran away and left his favorite daughter all on her own.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed. “Now, Dru, be-”

She held up a hand. “It’s rude to interrupt.” Angel closed his mouth, grimacing. He was the chosen champion of the Powers, what had he done to end up here as a part of Drusilla’s circus of crazy? Dru wiggled her way closer to her Sire. “The mean man wandered all over the world, until he saw a pretty girl bathing. He wanted the pretty girl but when he got close the girl saw him and turned him into a poor little puppy.” She frowned, sliding to her knees at Angel’s feet.

Dru looked up at him, her brown eyes wide. Angel was frozen in place. Placing her hands on Angel’s knees she leaned towards him. “Daddy was bad, now he needs a chain.” Her pale, long fingered hands slid another inch up his thighs. “Don’t bite the mailman,” she murmured.

“What are you doing, Drusilla?” He leaned away from her.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? What Buttercup gave William?” Angel gulped. Dru slid her hand closer to his groin. Yes, he wanted it. Buffy had used her mouth on his idiot Grandchilde’s prick, why shouldn’t he enjoy the same? He pulled the top hat off her head and fisted his hand into her silky brown locks. Angel glanced up and met a pair of yellow eyes. The other vampire was leaning forward, drooling, even his pink bunny ears were tilted towards the couple. Past him the eyes of the dead man glared, full of accusation.

Angel was suddenly disgusted with himself. He pushed Drusilla roughly away from him. “Stand up, you slattern,” he spat. Laughing, Drusilla rose to her feet. She brushed off her dress.

“Oh, poor Daddy, your pretty girl is dripping with Spike and you can’t even-“

“Be quiet!” he roared.

Drusilla threw her head back and laughed. “I have a plan, Angel. A pretty, pretty plan. Do you want to hear it?”

Did he?

Alfonso held up his hand and Dru pointed to him. “Can we have tea now?”

“Yes, of course!” Drusilla smiled brightly. She picked up the tea pot and poured a stream of thick blood into the cup in front of Angel. With a plop, she added a tea bag and moved on to pour for herself, Alfonso, and Mr. Loir.

Angel stared at the cup. He was sure it was pig’s blood, but the warm smell of it mixed with earl grey tea was making his stomach turn.

This whole thing stank. Dru and her pretty mouth, her dead man’s party, and whatever her stupid plan was. No, he didn’t want to know. He’d been a fool to think he could work with her. He stood sharply, knocking over his chair.

“I’m leaving. You,” he pointed at Drusilla. “Stay.”

He stormed off, her cackling laughter following him.

“Angel! Angel!” She shouted at his back. “Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

****

It was still dark when Buffy awoke. For the first time in a very long time she felt content as her eyes fluttered open. The reason for her happiness became apparent when she stretched and her arm and leg on one side smacked into an unyielding vampire.

She was flat on her back with Spike laying on his side, flush up against her. His arm was resting heavily across her stomach.

"What time is it?" she asked groggily, turning her head towards him. In the dark his eyes were fathomless.

"Hour or so to dawn," he whispered, bending his neck so he could kiss her shoulder.

Buffy sighed, she didn't want him to go. "I guess you'll be leaving soon," she said.

"Don't want to go, Bess." Spike replied, echoing her own thoughts.

"I know, but you need to.” She had school, her mom was just a few doors down, and Spike needed to get back to the factory to take care of…things.

Spike’s eyes were still on her. “I don’t want to go,” he said again. With blunt teeth he bit her shoulder, sucking lightly at the skin. The arm around her tightened, and his leg slipped over hers, pinning her. Buffy closed her eyes, taking a deep breath through her nose and basking in being surrounded by her vampire. Heaven. A tear escaped down her cheek.

His arm released her and a blunt finger caught the tear.

“Why are you crying, luv?” Spike’s voice had a tremor to it, like he was frightened of her answer.

She turned her head to look at him, bringing her free hand up to hold his. “It’s a happy tear, you dolt, I’m happy.” His body relaxed against her. She brought his hand to her mouth, kissed his palm.

“I don’t want to ever leave this room, this bed, this moment.”  Buffy traced her tongue down his forefinger. Spike’s hips rocked forward, grinding his cock against her side. “But you know we have to.” She whispered the words to his fingertip. There was the crunch of shifting cartilage and she was looking at Spike’s demon. He growled low and menacing.

“I don’t want to go.” The words were slightly slurred by his fangs. He bit down on her shoulder again, this time breaking the skin. Her lips parted as she gasped at the sharp pain. Spike used the opportunity to slide his finger deep into her mouth. She suckled at the intrusion, swirling and flicking her tongue around it. After a minute he slowly extracted it from between her lips. His fangs remained buried in her shoulder, a dull ache. He trailed the nail of his pinkie down her breastbone until he met the quilt covering her lower half. With a grunt, he batted the cover aside and rubbed his saliva covered forefinger over her clit.

Her hips rolled and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Buffy wiggled her hand from where it was pinned between them and wrapped it tightly around his shaft. She pumped him in rhythm with the movements of his finger over her swollen flesh.

The sweep of his finger was much rougher and harder than her own would have been. Buffy wondered if she should be embarrassed at how quickly he was going to make her come. Spike’s hand shifted, his thumb continued to stroke her while his fingers inched down in between her parted thighs. He paused, right at her opening, and bit down harder into her shoulder. She gave a muffled cry and surged up against his hand, driving his fingers inside of her. Because of the angle he couldn’t go deep, but he still fucked her with his first two fingers while keeping up a steady rhythm with his thumb.

Buffy bit into the fleshy part of her palm to try and keep her moans stifled as her muscles started to clench. Her hand stilled on his cock, clutching him hard enough to seriously hurt him if he’d been human. She came with a silent scream, her hips moving up and down wildly. Spike’s fangs kept their hold on her shoulder and the pain added to her pleasure as it rolled through her in waves. His fingers never paused. She’d barely started to come back down when his touch had her crashing back over the edge again.

This time, when her inner muscles stopped milking his fingers, he pulled his hand away. Abandoning his bite, he rose onto all fours over top of her.

“Floor!” Buffy managed to pant. Her bed may have been fine for making love to the man last night, but it probably wouldn’t be able to stand up to the demon pounding into her. Not to mention that the headboard rhythmically banging against the wall might get her mother’s attention.

The vampire rolled them off the side of the bed, and she landed on top of him with a muffled thump. Spike flipped them so she was under him, on her back again. Gently, he licked the valley between her breasts while she wrapped her legs tightly around him. Yellow eyes met hers. With a twist of his hips he was inside her. The first few thrusts were shallow, making Buffy growl in frustration. She dug her fingernails into his back, and he dropped his head down so his cheek was against hers.

“What does my Bess want?” He whispered.

“All of you!” she gasped, arcing her spine and raking her fingernails across his back. The sting and the blood she drew drove his demon wild. Spike slammed his entire length into her, pushing her hard against the carpet. She was going to have rug burns for days. Buffy raised her hands over her head, bracing them against the wall. He was plunging in and out of her faster than she could keep up. It was brutal, and violent, and–oh, god–she sank her teeth into his earlobe as she came again. Her internal spasms had her clamping down vice-like on his cock, making him snarl in mingled pain and pleasure. Spike’s vicious pace became frenzied. With a feral cry, he ground himself one more time deep inside of her and came, tossing his head back in a silent howl. Leaning forward, Buffy caught the front of his pale throat in a gentle, open mouthed bite as she felt the cold spurts of his cum inside her.

When she let go she fell flat on the floor, panting.

“Buffy,” he croaked, his head tipping forward to rest on her collarbone.

Her hand softly stroked the hair on the back of his neck. She’d been wrong earlier; this was this moment she wanted to live in forever.  Her alarm clock had other ideas as it set to beeping shrilly. Spike growled at it, making her giggle. She unwrapped her legs and gently pushed him off so she could crawl over to her bedside table and reach up to hit the switch. With a hand on the edge of her bed she stood up, or at least tried to. Her legs were jell-o, but her vampire was there to catch her before she ended up in a heap on the floor. He pulled her tight against him. His vamp face was gone, but he still bent over to lick at his bite on her shoulder. The soft wetness of his tongue made her shiver.

“Good morning Buffy!” her mom’s cheery voice called from down the hall.

“Good morning!” she called back. Spike was still plastered against her, his head laying on her shoulder with bright blue eyes looking up at her.

“I don’t want to go,” he said again, sadly this time.

Anger buzzed inside Buffy, she pushed him roughly off her. “Would you stop acting like I want you to? Like it’s my fault that this may not be the best time for us to barricade the doors and windows and fuck each other non-stop until we pass out from it, then wake up and do it some more? Because that’s what I want- no world, no problems, no well-meaning friends. Just you, endlessly, until I drown in you.”

Spike closed the distance between them again, wrapping her in his arms and squeezing her hard.  He kissed the top of her head before laying his cheek there.

Neither of them moved.

“Are you okay?” she finally asked.

“I don’t know. I’m good, when I’m here with you, everything’s good.”

Her throat constricted. “Me too, I feel that way too,” she said in a small voice. Everything made sense when they were together. With him, she was complete, no longer a puzzle with half the pieces missing.  What didn’t make sense to her was that he seemed to feel the same way. He’d known her for weeks, not years. Spike should be trying to rip her throat out in 1997, not urgently seeking her out to spend all night wrapped up together.

Part of her didn’t want to question his reasons, ever. He wanted her. It was a flipping miracle, divine gratitude from the PTB that way outdid the Christmas snow. Only she knew better. She didn’t get those kind of breaks. Somehow she’d done this to him. Made him different without asking.

Buffy flattened her palm on his chest, over his heart. “Last night you said it hurt, right here, do you know why?”

Spike shook his head. “Dru called it an echo and a spark. I can feel it burning sometimes. Do you know what it is?”

“I’m not sure. Does it bother you, having it?”

“Just feels like a part of me. Though it’s a part I’m not always in agreement with. Bloody thing sure seems to like you.” He smiled at her.

Buffy stared at her hand. “I think it might have something to do with me and the whole time travel thing. I…I’m sorry”

“For what?” His confusion seemed genuine. How could he not be blaming her for completely upending his life?

“You should be bathing in my blood, Spike, not screwing me senseless.”

“Women,” he muttered against the crown of her head. “So let me get this straight: since I’m here doing my best to make you bow-legged instead of trying to kill you, you’re…mad?”

“No, I’m not mad.”

“Disappointed?”

“No! God no. A million times no.”

“That’s good. You might have bruised my delicate ego.” His tongue ran over the dips and folds of her ear and she shivered.

“I’m sure. What I’m trying to say is: I’ve managed to mess things up.”

Spike snorted. “Does this feel ‘messed up’ to you?” He tilted her head back and kissed her tenderly, his mouth worshiping at the altar of hers. He didn’t stop until she was a quivering, boneless weight leaning against him with dazed eyes.

“Not-” Buffy swallowed and trying to get her kiss-swollen lips to obey. “Not messed up.”  She caught his face in between her hands. “Perfect.”

He grinned at her.

“Buffy!” Her mom sounded peeved. “Breakfast is nearly ready. Get your behind down here!”

“In a minute!” She hollered back.

With a final kiss to the end of her nose, Spike let her go and quickly pulled his clothes on. Once dressed he tossed one leg out the window, then looked back to where she still stood, naked, by her bed.

“Soon,” he said and was gone.

****

Buffy dropped her books in her locker and grabbed her English binder.

“Hi! Are you ready for some Macbeth today?”  Willow was entirely too chipper for whatever time of the morning it was. Buffy made a face at her. “Come on, it’s going to be fun in a gloomy, Scottish kind of way.”

“I like the parts with the witches,” the Slayer grumbled.

“That’s the spirit!” Willow clapped her friend enthusiastically on the shoulder, making Buffy wince.

“What’s…oh–hey, you’re bleeding!”  There were two little spots of blood leaking through her pink sweater. Great, just what she needed. Willow was staring at her, horrified.

“Do you have any band-aids?” Buffy asked, irritated. It was just a little blood.

“N…no,” Willow stammered, “but I think Giles does. Come on, we’ll get you patched up.”

Giles wasn’t in the library, but Buffy knew where he kept the first aid kit. She pulled her sweater off, and Willow gasped.  Her shoulder had bloomed with a dark purple bruise. “Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it looks,” she assured the redhead. Spike must have been sucking a lot harder than she’d realized, not that she could complain, exactly.   

Willow ripped open one of the disinfect wipes and tried to hand it to Buffy. “Can you do it?” The Slayer asked. Under the sweater she’d worn a light camisole, but still felt oddly exposed, having her arms crossed over her chest made it somewhat better.

“Sure, I’m sorry if it stings.”

“I think I’ll be ok.” The cloth was cold and it did hurt some, but she didn’t move so that Willow wouldn’t feel any worse than she already did.

Just as the Willow was tossing away the wipe, Giles walked into the library.

“Good morning girls, shouldn’t you be-” his eyes landed on Buffy’s shoulder. “Dear lord, what happened.”

“It’s just a little sore, don’t worry.” Buffy tried to brush off his concern. Ignoring her, the Watcher came over and bent down to get a good look.

“It appears to be a vampire bite.” He leaned in closer and adjusted his glasses. “When did this happen?”

“This morning,” Buffy mumbled. Willow quickly put two band-aids on her arm, and The Slayer ducked down to find the extra clothes she kept stashed in Giles’ office. They were mostly gym clothes, and she settled on a black zip-up hoodie with a pink giraffe silk-screened on the front. The dark fabric would hide any more blood that might leak through.

She stood back up and shrugged on the top.

“So, can you tell me exactly how this happened?” Giles asked.

Willow still had an extremely worried look on her face. “It’s awfully bruised up, did you get hurt anywhere else?”

“No, really, it’s ok guys, I’m good.” She figured the rug burns on her back and ass and the occasional twinges from between her thighs didn’t count.

“I need to make a record, especially if you were injured during your slaying,” Giles said, grabbing paper and pencil. “Now where did this happen?”

“It must have been a really scary vamp to have done that much damage. Was there more than one?” Willow asked.

“What was the weather like this morning? Was it foggy? I got a late start this morning.” Giles was already jotting things down.

Willow was continuing to speculate: “I bet there was more than one, because-”

“Look, stop, both of you,” Buffy said, louder than she’d meant to. Her fists curled at her sides. Giles and Willow had both fallen silent, and were looking at her expectantly.

“It’s, it was…ugh, you two just couldn’t leave well enough alone. It was a consensual bite.” She flushed bright red.

Giles’ mouth dropped open. “Dear lord.”

“How about we don’t put that in the Watcher Diaries, okay?” Buffy didn’t wait for an answer, she just turned and walked hurriedly away.  

Giles remained speechless but Willow rushed after her with a confused look on her face.

“I don’t understand, you let a vampire bite you?” Willow asked when she’d caught up.

Buffy stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Could you say that a little louder, some guy in China didn’t hear you.” Willow paled. “Girls’ bathroom,” Buffy said.  Once inside she checked that all the stalls were empty before leaning against the window sill.  “So what part of ‘consensual bite’ did you not get?” she finally asked.

Willow shook her head. “I’m sorry Buffy, I don’t understand what’s going on. You said that-” she swallowed hard, “that you let a vampire bite you?”

“Yes, I let Spike bite me.”

“Spike?” Willow sputtered. “He bit you?”

“Yes,” Buffy quirked her lips to the side. Willow innocence was on full display. She really wasn’t getting it.

“This morning?”

“Yes, this morning.”

“Why?” Willow was shaking her head, completely flummoxed.

Buffy sighed, she was going to have to spell it out. “He was just doing the vampire thing. We were having sex and he bit me.”

“You were having sex?” Willow looked even more dumbstruck.

“Uh, yup, just said so.”

“This morning?”

“Also a yes.”

“With Spike?”

“Yeah. Do you need to sit down Willow?” Buffy was starting to worry about her friend, Willow’s usually sharp mind seemed to be on vacation.

“And he bit you?”

“Uh-huh, sure did. Vampires kind of have an oral fixation.” Willow looked like she was pulling a blank. “Look it up on the internet- at home, not school, totally not at school. Anyway, you may notice shoulder, not neck.  Not a lot of big blood vessels in the shoulder. It’s really more of a vampire hickey.”

Willow was now nodding her head, though she still had a stunned look on her face. “It’s kind of an intense hickey.”

“You're telling me, but I don’t mind. It’s actually kind of sweet.” Buffy pressed her fingers over the bite, the slight pain making her entire body shudder with remembered bliss.

The redhead opened and closed her mouth several times. “This morning you had sex with Spike?”

Buffy groaned. It wasn’t even first period and she’d already broken Willow.


	19. Truth and Consequences

You've got a death wish

        -INXS "Suicide Blonde"

****

Buffy sat cross-legged on the ground in front of Ford’s grave, twirling her stake in one hand. While she had no doubt Spike had kept his word, watching for Ford’s rising had been a great excuse for her to get her Watcher alone. They really needed to talk.

“Giles, there’s…”

“Buffy, I…” They started at the same time.

“You first,” she said. Tiny, familiar, pinpricks ran up and down her spine. There was a vampire in the tree line behind the graves. She smiled softly, Spike just couldn’t stay away. Not that she wanted him to.

“Buffy, I have to say that I have been very concerned about you lately. At the risk of making you angry I need to let you know that I find your actions, choices, and attitude lately to be very disturbing.” When she didn’t rush to contradict him, he went on: “I need to know what’s going on in that head of yours, so I can help you before you get yourself killed.”

One side of Buffy’s mouth quirked up. “Where do you want to start?” It was hard to stay mad at him when he was being the Watcher and substitute dad she remembered so fondly. While she’d never been one for following rules, lately she must look like she’d derailed right into crazy-town. Her plan tonight was to let her Watcher in on the whole time-travel thing, but she wasn’t adverse to letting him flounder a little beforehand. A little petty revenge to take the edge off the anger she still harbored towards his future self. The one that had betrayed and abandoned her more than once.    

“Well, let’s start with the thing that it is hardest for me to understand.” He’d taken his glasses off and was busy polishing them on a blue handkerchief rather than looking at her. “Spike.”

“What about Spike?”

Giles made a few flustered noises.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Finding it a little hard to talk to your Slayer about sex?”

He blinked. “He’s a vampire, Buffy!”

“What?”  She rolled her eyes. “I had no idea! Thank god you cleared that up for me!”

“Now may not be the best moment for levity,” Giles scowled.

“So when, as my Watcher, were you going to have the birds and bees talk with me?” _Besides never._ “Y’know, the one in which you tell me that I could literally kill a regular guy if I get carried away while we’re in the sack?”

“Um…”

“Was I supposed to be a good little virgin forever?”

Giles sighed and rubbed his temples. “You’re very young. I thought I still had some time before I needed to worry about what you might…for christ’s sake Buffy, he’s a soulless Master vampire. An evil monster that’s killed two of your sister Slayers!”

“Mmm, makes it all that more impressive that I’ve got him completely pussy-whipped then, doesn’t it?” She was sure she heard a snort from somewhere close by. Her lips curled up. Like the vampire could deny it.

“There’s no need to be crude. How did this happen? How could you have possible started a sexual relationship with such a thing?”

Buffy bristled and something twisted in her chest. “He is not a thing.” Her voice was low and dangerous.

Giles took an involuntary step back, though Buffy hadn’t moved from her seat on the ground. “Very well, we can argue semantics later, but I’d appreciate an answer to my question.”

“How blunt do you want this?” she asked.

“Very. What happened on Halloween?”

Buffy looked down at the dirt covering the grave. “I sought Spike out, not because I was expecting to get laid, but because I wanted to die.”

“What?” His voice was a barely-there whisper. Giles walked over so he was standing right in front of her, but she kept her face pointed at the ground.

“I went looking for my death. I expected him to be accommodating. I knew you and the Scoobies would be fine handling Ethan. I found Spike, we fought. He pinned me to a plywood scrap pile. I could have kicked him away, but instead I turned my head and again asked him to kill me.”

“Again?” Giles sputtered.

“First time was during the school attack. The second while I was on patrol. I figured the third time would be the charm.”

“Oh.” Giles took his glasses off, looked at them, and slowly set them back on his nose. “Go on.”

“Well, obviously that’s not what happened.” Buffy closed her eyes. The feel of Spike’s hands and lips ghosted over her skin.  

“I’m afraid I still don’t understand. Everything written about Spike suggests that he wouldn’t hesitate to add a third Slayer to his tally.”

Buffy groaned. “Do you really think that the writings of the Council contain the complete and unbiased truth about a vampire?” Her eyes sought her Watcher’s face. It was closed and guarded. They hadn’t been through the crucible of the cruciamentum. Giles hadn’t been forced yet to choose between her and the Council.

“So the wisdom of hundreds of years is to be thrown out the window because, what? My Slayer has an itch?”

Buffy bit back an acerbic retort. “I’m going to stop this discussion right there. You’re going to berate my choice of who I get naked with and completely ignore the part about me trying to get myself killed? Don’t I feel special.”

Giles looked ashamed. “I was going-”

“Stop!” She was nearly shouting. “I came here to tell you something because you’re my Watcher. I need you, I need your help, but by all means just continue telling me what a bad girl I am. Toss something in there about me being a disappointment or not meeting your expectations. Maybe you can tell me about how I need to learn how to stand on my own. Oh, I know, why don’t you just leave? You’re good at that one!”

Standing with his arms crossed, Giles appeared flummoxed. “I don’t…Buffy, you…what do you need to tell me? I’m feeling lost here. Your puppy love for Angel was bad enough, but this thing with Spike, I’ve had no training to remotely prepare me for it. There’s no class on how to handle your Slayer bringing her work into bed with her!”

“Look, let me tell you what I need to. Everything should make a lot more sense afterward.”

 “Well, I certainly hope something does tonight.”

Buffy gave her stake an extra high toss. She caught it and looked grimly up at her Watcher. “This, Giles, is where things get complicated.”

“Enlighten me.”

Buffy smiled wryly. “I’m from seven years in the future.”

“Excuse me?”

“I staked myself on top of the pit that used to be the hellmouth. I almost managed to die, but once again I wasn’t allowed to. A little mumbo-jumbo and I ended up in the past. Yay!” She dropped her head back against the hard marble tombstone behind her. 

“Dear lord, you’re not kidding.”

“Nope, I’m totally with the truth telling right now.” Her hand crept up and rubbed at the area over her heart. “Peppy teenaged Buffy’s gone, you’re stuck with me: a suicidal Slayer with seven years’ worth of memories that no one else has.” Seven years of pain. Seven years of loss. Seven years too many.

Giles was slack-jawed. He patted his pockets until he came up with a notebook and pencil and started scribbling. Buffy frowned but he didn’t notice. “This is how you knew Spike would attack the school on Thursday and that nothing would happen on the Night of St. Vigeous.” Buffy nodded.

“There’s so much you can tell me, so much good that can be done. Buffy, this is amazing. You need to start outlining what’s going to happen.” Giles was writing as fast as he could. Buffy stared at the clear night sky. She need help and understanding, not the fifth degree.

“Giles, I’ve already changed so much that a lot of what happened the first time around simply can’t happen again. I promise I’ll tell you what I think is important.”

He didn’t even look up at her. “Shouldn’t changing things affect the future, perhaps even your trip back in time? Should you not be concerned about the creation of paradoxes?”

“I created a different universe or something by being here.” She shrugged. “I guess everything in the first one is still intact.”

“Hmm, parallel realities, yes…I believe there’s a recently written treatise on that. I’ll have to contact the author. We really should create a timeline of what you remember versus what is occurring now and correlate them. It’d be an excellent way of determining what will still occur and what you have changed. Would you be up for that?”

“Not tonight, particularly.” She fidgeted, tapping the stake against her knee. This hadn’t been what she’d expecting. Disbelief, maybe, and more than anything she’d wanted a sympathetic ear for her pain. She wasn’t interested in being shoved under a microscope.

“I’m also curious about your trip back. You nearly died and I’m assuming that subsequently magic was done to send your consciousness back to this time. What was that experience like? Were you awake for the transition or did you just suddenly pop into this reality?”

“Giles, I-“

“Oh, and you said something about the hellmouth no longer existing? How did that happen?”

“I tell you everything, just maybe not right now,” she said dully. Buffy was feeling unmoored. Her whole world had ended and the loss had pretty much ended her. It still hurt like it’d happened yesterday, not a year and a half ago. The wound was fresh and oozing. She’d thought it’d been getting better but her Watcher had ripped the bandage off to expose how raw everything inside her was.

Giles ever glanced up from his frantic scribbling. “Now, tell me again, why were you sent back?”

 “Maybe you thought time-travel would magically cure insanity?” She wanted to needle him but he seemed immune to it.

“So I was involved with sending you back?”

“Yup, you were part of the ‘let’s decide for Buffy’ committee. I was tied down to a hospital bed with a tube shoved down my throat because I couldn’t breathe on my own. No one asked me what I wanted.” Her left hand continued to rub at her chest, even as her right one clenched white knuckled on the piece of wood it currently held. Angel had said infection had been the enemy, a blood infection so bad even her Slayer healing hadn’t been able to handle it. Idly she dragged the tip of the stake she held through the dirt. The dark was gathering, yawning beneath her.

Giles’ pencil finally stilled for a second.

“What event triggered you to perform such the desperate act?”

“No one saw me anymore. I was already dead. My anchor was gone and I was a ship drifting at sea.”

 _The waves were endless and inky black_.

Where was Spike? She could feel him somewhere close still. She longed for him to be right beside her. Only she shouldn’t. That hadn’t been her mission. God, she’d meant to save him, set him free. Instead she’d drug him down into the dark with her. She was a cancer that needed to be cut out. No Buffy, no first evil, no dead Spike.

“Giles, I lost someone I loved when the hellmouth collapsed. Nearly everyone I knew scattered to the four winds after Sunnydale became a crater.” Her Watcher was back to writing a mile a minute. “There was no one and nothing left for me. I was a ghost. I did so much wrong those last few years but he still loved me.” She was crying now but Giles was too busy with his notes to notice. “He wanted me to live and I couldn’t even do that much for him.”

Giles paused, skimming back over his notes. “You said someone you loved helped you, and then died himself?”

“He saved everyone.” Her breath was coming in shallow, harsh gasps. She was standing in the cavern again. The weight of the all the dirt above her head pressed down on her. Choking her. Her hand burned in his as his soul manifested and made the world safe again. For everyone except her.

_I love you._

Why had she run? When the hell had she ever listened to Spike? She should have stepped forward and burnt with him. She should have simply shown her love instead of giving him words to throw back in her face.

Buffy couldn’t let it happen again. She’d make it right.

“Angel, he dies closing the hellmouth?” Giles had his pencil poised to record her answer.  

Buffy was on her feet, her vision swimming with tears. “No!  No one ever sees! This ends now!” Her hands were thrown out wide, she looked at the stake there.  It would be so easy, so very easy…

****

Giles looked up and Buffy’s outburst and froze as the Slayer stared at the stake she was holding. Her muscles bunched across her shoulders and down her arm as she tensed them. She took a deep breath.  

There was a deep growl and a blur of black as something knocked him aside and tackled Buffy. She cried out in pain as her wrist was twisted so that she dropped the stake.

“Buffy!” Giles shouted.

The vampire stood up, Buffy cradled in his arms. Giles had only seen him fleetingly on Parent Teacher Night, but there was no mistaking who the demon holding his Slayer was.

“Spike! Let her go!”

“You stupid, bloody git!” Spike growled. “She was going to do it again, right in bloody front of you and you couldn’t see it!” Buffy said something and Spike’s face smoothed back into its human guise. “Shhh, Bess, I got you.”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said.

“For what, luv?”

“I broke my promise. I’m supposed to tell you.”

“Hey, you knew I was here the whole time listening to every sodding word. So no worries. I’m going to take you home now.” He turned his back on the Watcher and started to walk off.

Giles was at his wit’s end. As Buffy’s Watcher he couldn’t just let a demon cart her off to wherever. “Now see here…”

Not even bothering to turn around Spike yelled over his shoulder: “That part she was on about- the bit about someone she loves dying. You don’t really think it was Angel, do you?” Then the vampire and Slayer were blocked from view amongst the trees.

Giles just stood and stared at the point they’d vanished. Eventually, he thought. Eventually this would all make sense.

He just needed to write it down.


	20. Home Alone

I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day

            -The Temptations, “My Girl”

****

The big black car creaked to a stop in front of the house on Revello Drive. Spike hadn’t really thought this part through, what would happen when he got her home. Currently, Buffy sat scrunched up against his side on the car’s bench seat.

“Got you home, safe and sound-like. It’s all dark at the moment, so your mum must be asleep. Can you wake her? I don’t want you to be alone right now.” He was hoping she’d invite him to meet her in her room again.

“Do you have to leave?” she asked, frowning up at him and fluttering her lashes. Well, that was more like it. The spark agreed, giving a little flutter of delight. While he’d been disturbed to see his girl nearly end herself, the damned shard had flipped out. It’d felt like an elephant gun had been fired point blank against his chest. Like he needed any added motivation to stop her from hurting herself.

He looked down at the girl and curled his tongue behind his teeth in just the way he knew would make her all hot and bothered. “Got nowhere better to be, if that’s what you’re asking.” Spike watched her lips slowly spread into a smile and her eyes darken.

“My mom isn’t even home. She’s gone on a buying trip to LA and won’t be back for a day or two. Would you like to come inside?” She purred out the last sentence.

Christ, would he ever. Spike opened the DeSoto’s door and jumped out, pulling her by the hand along behind him. Buffy laughed and kicked the car door closed. Looking sly, she dropped his hand and took off running towards the house. He chased after her, catching her as she bounded up the porch steps. Spike spun her around and pinned her against the door with a scorching kiss.

Coming up for air she whispered: “Key, front right pocket.” He didn’t know if she meant his right or her right, so he dug fingers into both. Buffy squirmed under the intrusion and he almost forgot what he was doing. Ah-ha, it’d been his right. He claimed her mouth again with a kiss, dragging one hand up her side and over the swell of her breast before using it to softly cup her cheek. He broke their kiss in order to unlock the door. Not wanting to leave her empty, he thrust two fingers into her hot little mouth. Buffy swirled her tongue over his knuckles while she sucked. A raw groan escaped his throat and he ground his erection against her hip.

“Bloody hell, Bess, the things you do to me,” he said between gritted teeth.

The door gave way behind her back and they tumbled inside onto the floor. Spike elbowed the door shut. Her flimsy shirt gave way like tissue paper as he tore it, eager to taste her. She sat up and unhooked her little lacy bra for him. He suckled one rosy nipple, drawing it deep into his mouth before using blunt teeth to bite down. Buffy squealed and writhed under him. He repeated the process with the other nipple, making her cry out again. Someday he’d make her come just by doing this, but right now he wanted more.

The Slayer’s hands clutched at the back of his head as he trailed kisses from the valley between her breasts down her stomach. Reaching the waistline of her skirt, he simply hooked his fingers under the fabric and tore it off as well. She yanked at his duster and he reared back for a moment to shuck it. Her fingers were tearing at his t-shirt so he stripped that as well, sending it sailing to land somewhere in the living room. Jumping to his feet he quickly pulled off his boots and got his jeans down in record time.

He covered her body with his again. The bruise on her shoulder was already starting to yellow, but his bite mark was still clearly visible. It was comforting to see her wearing it. He ran his tongue up the sensitive inside of her arm and then gently sucked at the bite. Buffy bucked up against him, mewling in pleasure. Her enjoyment of his attention to his mark nearly undid him. She was his girl.

“Can’t wait any longer, luv. Gotta be inside you,” he panted. Buffy nodded and impatiently tore the sides of her own underwear, ripping the fabric out from under her and throwing it aside. Grasping her ankles, Spike spread her wide to his gaze. He could see the honey dripping at her core for him, her clit a swollen pink pearl at the top of her folds. Unneeded breaths rasping in his throat, he hooked her legs over his shoulders, and guided the head of his cock until it rested just at her opening.

Wrenching his eyes away from the enticing sight, he looked up to meet her own hungry gaze.

“Don’t want to be gentle.” His voice came out hoarse.

Buffy grinned. “I don’t remember saying that I wanted you to be.” Keeping their gazes locked Spike slammed himself to the hilt inside her, then ground his pelvis against her to make sure her clit got in on the action. Her inner muscles gripped him tightly, grabbing at him as he pulled back. He surged back into her. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders leaving tracks as he pounded into her over and over. God, she fit him like a glove. Her pussy suddenly clamped even tighter about him and then fluttered as her back bowed off the floor and she shouted his name. Her legs shook against his shoulders.

“Good girl,” he gasped, stilling himself as she rode out her orgasm. “Such a good girl.”

Buffy was breathing hard. She looked up at him from under heavily lidded eyes. “Wipe that smug look off your face and move!” she grumbled. Her hands scuttled across the entry way rug, trying to get enough leverage to rock her hips.

“Right.” Spike braced himself and began slamming into her once more with bruising force. Buffy came again quickly, her hands clamped like vices around his forearms.

His mouth started running: “That’s my good girl. Oh god, Bess, yes! You’re so bloody tight. Fuck! So hot, so good, oh god, your pussy is going to fucking make me burn. Oh god…Buffy!” He roared wordlessly and his cock jerked hard inside her as he came in a rush. Bracing her arms against the floor she pushed up against him, getting as close to him as physically possible.

After a long moment he pulled out and lay down on the floor next to her. “Your turn to look smug, I suppose,” he said. Buffy rolled towards him, running her hand over his chest. His eyes followed her tan little hand as it made lazy circles, inching down over the muscles in his abdomen. Finally, she ran her fingertips lightly through the brown curls of his pubic hair before wrapping her palm around his cock. It sprung back to attention in her firm grip. Her green eyes met Spike’s blue ones.

“More.”

****

Joyce was exhausted when she pulled up to the house. It was just past 4:30 in the morning. Someone had parked an ugly, old car inconsiderately right in front of her house. It blocked the mailbox but thankfully not the driveway. The ridiculous art opening she’d foolishly agreed to attend had run late. When it’d been over she’d even more foolishly agreed to go to a bar with some of the artists to discuss their work. It had been fun, sort of, but when she’d finally gotten away it turned out that the hotel she’d been planning on staying at had been overbooked and she’d lost her room. Exasperated, she had decided to just drive the three hours home and write off the rest of the trip.

Grabbing her bags from the trunk, she lugged them up the front steps to rest by the front door. As she fished for her key Joyce noticed that the welcome mat was askew. She straightened it and frowned. The door was slightly opened. A slight push and it swung wide. The latch hadn’t caught. She flicked on the entryway lights.

“Buffy?” she called in a tremulous voice. It looked like there’d been a struggle. The throw rugs were bunched up haphazardly, nearly everything from the entryway table lay on the floor, and the table itself was tipped on two legs against the wall. Halfway up the stairs it looked like a picture had been knocked off the wall, and the others were no longer straight. Joyce was growing more and more alarmed. A scrap of familiar fabric lay on the floor. When she picked it up she recognized it as one of Buffy’s shirts, but it had been shredded. Fear for her daughter overtook Joyce and she ran upstairs, looking for Buffy.

The only door open was her daughter’s. Suddenly wary, Joyce tried to move silently to Buffy’s room. Someone who definitely was not her daughter was lying in Buffy’s bed. Joyce watched for a moment. The figure wasn’t breathing and the broad back was ghastly pale against the dark sheets. What hell was going on? There was a dead man lying in her daughter’s bed. With trembling fingers Joyce reached over and flipped on the overhead lights.

Buffy sat up in the bed and shrieked, and the figure next to her sprang to life. It rolled over, pushed her daughter flat and crouched with her body caged between its limbs. Feral yellow eyes found Joyce’s and a mouthful of fangs growled possessively.  

****

Buffy tried to tame her sudden adrenaline rush. Craning her neck, Buffy looked around Spike’s arm, only to see her mother standing there with an expression of horror on her face. Another growl rumbled through her vampire’s chest. “Mom,” she said weakly.

He looked down at her. “Mom?” Buffy nodded and he dropped his head to her shoulder.

“Bollocks.”

****

Joyce backed out of the room, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste. Once downstairs she saw the mess in a new light. She noticed that it wasn’t just Buffy’s shirt on the floor, there were clothes strewn everywhere. Two pairs of muddy boots, one obviously Buffy’s and the others a much larger pair, had been flung into a corner.

She was stunned. She’d gone out of town and her daughter had brought home some . . . thing . . . and apparently had . . . relations . . . with it.  A dead thing. She knew it hadn’t been breathing. The full implications of her daughter having sex with a vampire hadn’t been apparent to her that night at Mr. Giles’ place. That thing in her baby’s bed was a monster. She wished for a gun, or a knife. She headed for the kitchen.

****

“It’s not that funny, Bess.”

Buffy was having a hard time controlling her giggles, and Spike was rolling his eyes at her.

“Yes, it is!” She sagged back onto the bed.

“Well, at least you’re dressed,” he huffed.

“Oh my god, her face!!”

“Stop laughing for two seconds and let’s try to see our way out of this,” he grumbled.

“Why don’t we do the time-honored thing and simply go out the window?”

“Or we can not act like bloody naughty children and just go down and talk to her.”

“How very noble of you, kind sir. How doth you seeth this conversation going?” She put on her best fake posh English accent.

“You’re hilarious, pet. Meanwhile I’m starkers over here and apparently trying to defuse the time bomb downstairs on my own.”

Buffy sighed. “Ok, you’re right. Let’s be adults and go talk to her, it really can’t be that bad. I think she’ll probably end up liking you.”

“Do I detect an ‘again’ on the end of that sentence?” He stood, securing the sheet tighter around the waist. Buffy wondered what her mom would do if he accidently flashed her?

“Mmmm, enhanced vampire hearing for the win. However, the first time around she never found you naked in my bed. So I don’t really know how this is going to go. Ready?” she asked, standing up and opening the door.

They walked to the top of the stairs, looked at each other, then headed down.

Joyce was waiting for them at the bottom, her posture rigid with her hands clutched tightly behind her back.

“Hi Mom, I didn’t think you’d be back so soon!” Buffy pasted on her brightest smile. “This is Spike, my, uh, friend.”  Joyce didn’t acknowledge her. “Mom?” she asked, frowning.

Spike looked like he was rethinking the window option. “Ms. Summers, I am sorry to be making your acquaintance under these circumstances, and must beg…”

Spike sounded like a Jane Austen character in a ballroom, not a nearly naked vampire in her foyer. Buffy suppressed a giggle as she grabbed their shoes and his jeans. His black T-shirt was nowhere to be seen.

Joyce’s ragged voice interrupted Spike’s attempt at an apology. “I told you to stay away from my daughter.”

From behind her back she brandished a meat cleaver, bringing it down towards the vamp’s head. He flinched out of the way, the cleaver smacking into the wall less than an inch from his ear.

“Bess, a little help here!”

“Run!” she yelled, opening the front door and sprinting out. Spike ducked around Joyce, grabbed his duster from the table and headed out the door. Grabbing his keys out of the duster’s pocket he opened the DeSoto’s door and scrambled in after Buffy. Joyce had yanked the cleaver from the wall and was striding determinedly towards the car.

“Go!” Buffy yelled. Luckily, the car cooperated, starting on the first try. Spike spun the wheels with a loud screech as they took off. Collapsing against him, Buffy laughed till tears rolled down her cheeks. She could feel Spike’s chuckle as it rumbled through his chest.

“This night’s been a sodding weird one.” 

“Yeah, it’s a good thing she doesn’t own a shotgun.”

Realizing she was crushing his duster on the seat, Buffy pulled it out from under her. She grabbed the slightly smushed pack of cigs from the pocket, tapped one out, and put it between his lips. The heavy silver lighter lit on the second try, and he gratefully sucked in a lungful of smoke. “Thanks, luv.”

“Guess you should be heading back to the factory, ‘daylight come’ and all that stuff,” Buffy sighed. Spike’s hands tapped a little angry rhythm on the steering wheel.

“I don’t want to leave you. Well, I never want to leave you, but right now it feels like a special sort of hell. The spark-“ He tapped his chest. “Is protesting pretty vehemently, too.”

“I know.” She sighed. “I feel the same way. I only feel right when we’re together. But there’s some stuff I need to take care of.” That stuff was seeming less and less important, but it would still be best to tackle her relationships with her family and friends without Spike in tow. At least for now. “Take me to Willow’s, I can probably stay there for at least part of today. I’ll go home after my mom has had a chance to cool off.” She gave him the address. After a moment of silence, she reached up for his cig, took it, tapped the ash into the mostly full tray, and put it back between his lips. Buffy repeated the process as they slowly cruised towards her friend’s house.

“So,” she started awkwardly. “Um, are you doing ok, in the, ah, eating department? And are you able to keep…Drusilla fed?”

Spike slammed the car to a stop in the middle of the street. “What the hell are you on about Slayer?”

“I care,” she said simply, not moving from where she sat against his side. “I care about you. Drusilla is a part of you. No matter what happens I can’t really hate her.” Buffy frowned. “It’s really complicated.”

“Yeah, it is,” he muttered. “I make sure she eats. Mostly stuff I buy at Willy’s but sometimes one of the minions will bring her…a...a…” He’d become very uncomfortable, tapping one foot against the floorboard. She wished she’d been able to ask Giles about the spark like she’d planned on doing. It was going to take more than Slayer powers to understand what had happened.  

Buffy looked up at Spike, taking the forgotten cigarette dangling from his mouth and smashing the butt into the ash tray. He finally took his right hand off the wheel, using it to grab Buffy, drag her onto his lap and crush her against him.

“You’re the only thing that makes sense,” he whispered into her hair. “I don’t know what to do about Dru. She won’t give me the time of day anymore but she’s still not well enough to truly be on her own. I’ve been wondering if there’s a way I can pass on my responsibility for her to someone else. Currently my favorite idea is standing her on Angel’s doorstep, knocking and running away. There’d be a note pinned to her dress: ‘you break it, you buy it’.”

Buffy doubled over laughing. “That’d be some poetic justice.”

Spike ran his fingers through her hair. “Bess.” His voice was rough and she sobered immediately. “I expect you to keep your promise. You come to me first.”

“Yes, I’ll come to you first.” Her voice was a barely there, ghost of a whisper.

“Louder,” he snarled.

“If I’m going to hurt myself I come to you first!” Her eyes were wide.

“Good.” He gently tugged her head back, bringing her mouth to his. He poured everything he had into the kiss, his lips cool and pliant against hers. Buffy cradled his head in her hands, opening her mouth and accepting all that he was. Something shifted and fell into place in that moment for Buffy. She loved, truly loved, the guy she was kissing. He wasn’t a placeholder for the Spike she’d lost. He was real and solid under her fingertips and she loved him. Slowly, they broke the kiss. She was sure she wasn’t alone in her feelings but it wasn’t time for words. Not yet. She sighed and snuggled against his chest.

Spike gave her a gentle smile. He put the car in gear and drove the few streets left to her friend’s house.

“You should tell her,” he said, pulling up to the curb.

“About what?” Buffy wrinkled her nose.

“Well, everything, but mostly I mean the time stuff. It’ll help to have a friend you can talk to about it when the sun’s up.”  

Stupid vampire was right, like usual.  

“Okay, I will, but only if you’ll come and meet Willow.”

“Bugger.” He tilted his head back, appearing to look for an answer in the frayed fabric covering the auto’s roof. “Fine, just let me get dressed, unless you’re thinking something totally different than I am.” Spike gave her a smirk, but she just rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder lightly.

“I’ll grab you a shirt out of the trunk.” Buffy hopped out of the passenger door and headed for the back of the car.

She pursed her lips as she rummaged around in the trunk, looking for a clean shirt. This was going to be interesting.


	21. Jelly Donuts

I've been down a lonely road so far from home

            -Mel Street, “Smokey Mountain Memories”

****

Willow was only sort of asleep. She was curled up on her bed with warm, dreamy thoughts running through her head. She liked it when her parents were gone, which was a lot. It meant having the whole house to herself and no one to complain if she got up super early to have toast and watch CNN. If she wanted to she could spend the whole day working on homework right in the middle of the living room, or reread _Persuasion_ while draped over the couch.

A sudden rapping at the french doors to her room made her jump. She made sure that she was decent before calling: “Who’s there?”

“Willow? It’s Buffy.”

“Buffy?” She opened the door a crack. “What’s up? Is there an apocalypse?”

“No, for once. I can’t go home at the moment. I was hoping I could crash with you today.”  Buffy was standing there, looking rather sheepish.

“Uh, sure. My parents aren’t here this weekend. I was just planning on study time. What’d you do that your Mom doesn’t want you at home?” Joyce and Buffy were so close that it often made Willow jealous and she couldn’t imagine what would have happened to make Joyce kick her daughter out.

Buffy reached forward and pushed the door open wider. Willow was suddenly acutely aware that her friend wasn’t alone.  The guy was all leather, mussed bleached blonde hair, and bad attitude. He was standing with his arms crossed, a scarred eyebrow raised, and was blowing out a stream of smoke…

“Spike!” Willow squeaked. Trying to take a step back, she tripped and ended up falling on her ass.  

The vampire rolled his eyes at her. “Not going to hurt you, Red.”  

“He’s just dropping me off,” Buffy said, tilting her head to look up at him with a smile. She stepped forward to help pull a stunned Willow to her feet before retreating back out the door. The redhead watched as Buffy and Spike’s hands met, fingers intertwining. “So,” Buffy interjected into the awkward silence that was forming. “Spike, this is my best friend Willow, and Willow, this is Spike.”  

“Nice to meet you,” the vampire said, nodding his head at her.

“Well, it’s, uh…nice to meet you, too.” Willow said, managing a smile, mostly for Buffy’s sake. She was still having major wiggins over having an evil, unsouled vampire holding hands with her friend right outside her bedroom.

“Bess here’s got something to tell you. I’m just going to be shoving off then, before the sun’s up.” Spike pulled Buffy in close. He whispered: “You can do this,” into her ear and kissed her.

Willow just stood there, eyes wide. There was absolutely tongue involvement and Buffy was just kind of melting. After a moment they stopped but remained clutching each other. Buffy’s fingers were tight on the leather sleeves of Spike’s coat and the vampire’s painted nails were digging into her hips. Both looked like it was physically painful when they finally stepped apart. Neither said goodbye. Buffy staggered into Willow’s room, shutting the door hard behind her. The car’s engine was loud when it started, then quickly faded as Spike drove away. Tears spilled from Buffy’s eyes as she slid down the door to sit on the floor. Willow plunked down cross-legged beside her.

“You ok?” the redhead asked.

“N-N-No,” Buffy stuttered through her tears. “Ugh, I-I-I keep crying.”  Willow scooted over to her friend, putting an arm around her shoulders. Buffy leaned against her. “Sorry Willow, I’m such a terrible friend.”

“I wouldn’t say that. But you have been kind of preoccupied lately. I always sort of feel like I don’t know what you’re going through with the whole Chosen One thing and now you’re kind of pushing us away so you can hang out with Spike.”  Willow sighed, leaning her head back against the door.

“I’m not entirely sure I’d classify what Spike and I do as ‘hanging-out’,” Buffy said, then seeing Willow’s face cringe she quickly added: “I’m not talking about the, er-”

“Sexy-time parts?” Willow filled in.

“Right, those. I’m mean, it’s just…” Buffy heaved a huge sigh. “It’s all really complicated. More than you can imagine.” Willow looked hurt. Buffy hugged her a little tighter. “And that’s totally something I want to talk to you about. I’m always super angry when people make decisions for me without asking because they think they know what’s best for me. Then what do I do when it’s my turn? I decide for you.” Buffy took a deep breath and looked Willow right in the eyes. “So here goes. I’d like to tell you the complicated part. It might make you sad, or your life harder. It’ll change what you think about me, maybe a lot. Dunno. I told Giles and he just kind of receded into his own head. Spike mostly got it when I told him, I think anyway, but then Spike’s always understood me better than I got myself, so he’s not really relevant. Well, no, he’s totally relevant to what I’m saying- and, eh, babbling so I’m going to be quiet now.”

“There was a question buried somewhere in there, right?”

“Yeah, I want you to decide if I should share this crap with you or not. If you don’t want to deal with the drama I totally get it and we can talk about how terrible Cordelia is or something.”

Willow snickered. “Can’t we do both?”

“That sounds like a plan. Hey, can we call Xander? I should offer him the same terrible ‘buy one, get Buffy’s nightmare for free’ deal.”

“6 a.m. on a Saturday? I’m sure he’s totally bright eyed and bushy tailed right now.” Willow grabbed the phone anyway and made the call. When Xander picked up after several rings she quickly filled him in on Buffy being there and needing to talk, and he agreed to head that way. “Now what do we do?” she asked Buffy.

****

Xander was not thrilled with his two best friends. Didn’t they know that week-ends were for sleeping? Thankfully the people at the Donut Shop were early risers too, and he had a box full of warm jelly deliciousness under his arm as he opened Willow’s front door without knocking.

“What the hell?” he barked. Every light in the house was on, the stereo was blaring, and Buffy was standing on the couch yelling lyrics into a remote control she was holding like a microphone. There was a neck tie around her head and off to the side, Willow was her one-woman audience.

“This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco, This ain’t no fooling around!” Buffy swaggered across the couch cushions. “This ain’t no Mudd Club, or CBGB, I ain’t got time for that now!” Willow cheered as Buffy pursed her lips and gave her hips a roll.

Xander tried again, a lot louder: “What the hell?”

Both girls ran to him, laughing and giving him hugs. “Have you been drinking?” he asked suspiciously. “And what the heck are we listening to?”

Buffy grabbed the donuts and shoveled one in her mouth while Willow turned off the stereo.

“No drinkage, just having fun!” the redhead said, choosing a pastry of her own.

“The Talking Heads,” Buffy said around a mouthful of donut.

“Huh?”

“That was a Talking Heads song,” Buffy repeated.

“And again I say ‘huh’. Since when do you know the words to a Talking Heads song? I mean Backstreet Boys: yeah, old punk bands: no.”

“I’ve been going through a phase.” Buffy shrugged. “Or I will have gone through, or I will be going, or maybe I…tenses are hard.”

“I can see that,” Xander said. “So what’s up with the emergency oh-freaking-early phone call?”

Buffy pulled the tie from around her head, suddenly looking serious. “Xander, I’ve got something that I’ve been keeping from you and Willow. I was doing it because I thought it was the best thing for you two, but then I realized that I was being an idiot. So I’m giving you a choice, I can tell you the whole thing, which might be upsetting, or you can go home, go back to sleep, and we can pretend this morning never happened.”

“Like I’d just turn my back on you,” Xander said, frowning at her. “Anyway, I’ve had so much crazy happen in the last year that you’ll be hard pressed to top it. What brought this on anyway?”

“Buffy got kind of kicked out of her house.” Willow nodded knowingly.

“That’s not the important thing I want to tell you,” Buffy quickly put in.

“Your mom’s the poster child for understanding, how did you manage to freak her out that much?” He couldn’t come up with one thing his friend could do to ruffle her mom’s feathers that badly.

“She came home early,” Buffy said. “And well-”

“Caught Buffy in bed with Spike.” Willow slumped in her chair, giggling.

“What?” Xander’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ve sat on that bed!”

Buffy ignored him. “We were just sleeping, by that point.” She gave Willow a withering glare.

“Vampires sleep?” he asked.

“Well, of course.” Buffy frowned. “They’re just sort of more, uh, corpse-like while doing it.”

“That’s not helping with the visual,” Xander grumbled. Gross.

“Yeah,” Willow agreed, crinkling up her nose. “Wouldn’t it be crazy creepy to wake up next to a dead person?”

“Well, in general, I guess,” Buffy grudgingly allowed. “But I’m the Slayer, right? So I have the crazy Slayer senses. They say: vampire, so I’m aware it’s not just some dead body. And I know Spike really well, so the tinglies say that also. And he breathes in his sleep sometimes.”  

“I think I can live without ever hearing the words “Spike” and “tinglies” in the same sentence again,” Xander sighed. “He’s a real pain in the ass and I haven’t even met him.”

“I did,” Willow said. “This morning when he dropped Buffy off. He seemed okay.”

 Buffy gave her a grateful smile. “I’m sure you’ll meet him soon. We should all go to the bronze together or something. He’s kind of important to me.”

“Yeah, the Bronze.” Xander made a face. “Because I didn’t get enough of you guys groping each other in public the last time.”

“We weren’t groping; we were just dancing.”

“Uh-” Willow put her hand up like she was asking a question in school. “I’m pretty sure there was groping, along with grinding. And need I remind you that you told me he was all ‘excited’ while you were ‘just dancing’?” She dropped her arm back into her lap.

Xander pretended to gag himself with a finger. Way to go Willow, with the too much information. He didn’t like to think of Buffy rubbing against any guy’s parts, but especially not a dead guy and his dead guy parts. Only Buffy was his friend and he needed to respect her decisions. But why did those decisions have to involve a dead guy?

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Look, can I just tell you guys the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad thing?”

“This isn’t it?” Xander asked.  

“Not by a long shot.”

“Lay it on me then.” Xander sat back, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

“Okay, and you guys are really sure you want to know this?”

“Yes!” they chorused.

“Here goes. I’m not sixteen year old Buffy, I’m twenty-three. I got sent back by you guys, Giles and Angel after I tried to kill myself. I’m still kinda suicidal. I have seven years worth of good and crappy memories that no one else here has. The way I understand it is that my original timeline stays intact, and once I got here and started changing things it just made a parallel world or something. And I’m stuck here repeating high school. I can remember some things but not the answers to Tuesday’s math quiz. And I’ve already changed a bunch of things. For example, just me telling you this means you don’t end up doing the exact same things in the exact same way that I remember. It’s all really confusing. Mostly what I want to do now is try and keep the really crappy stuff from happening.”

****

Buffy waited, hardly breathing. Her friends sat in silence. Finally, Xander set his feet on the floor with a sigh.

“So.” He leaned forward and looked Buffy right in the eye. “Do I ever get a girlfriend?”

“Excuse me?” Buffy wrinkled her brow. That hadn’t been what she’d been expecting.

“I’m selfish, sue me. I want to know if I ever manage to get a girlfriend because sometimes it seems pretty hopeless.”

“Yeah, of course you do. Like, duh.”

“What about me?” Willow asked.

“You get a girlfriend too, uh, I-I-I mean boyfriend.” Buffy gulped. “Y’know, boyfriend. The kind with a penis. Really, you guys are kind of freaking me out right now. You’re taking this way better than I thought you would. Aren’t either of you going to blow up or have a meltdown or something?”

Willow shrugged. “We live on the hellmouth, weirder things have happened. However, I’m a little worried about the suicide thing. What’s with that? Do I need to keep you away from scissors?”

“Scissors? What would I do with scissors?”

“It was the first sharp object I could think of.”  

“Oh, no, I tried that and it didn’t work.”

“Buffy!” both her friends gasped.

“Sorry. That was before I came back here. I’d like to say I’m done with that sort of thing, only I kind of tried again, on impulse, earlier tonight.”

“So, what stopped you?” Xander swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  

“Spike!” Willow squeaked. “It was Spike, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, he kind of keeps doing that.” Buffy looked at her friends, then sighed. In for a penny, in for a bunch of money, or whatever. “Just so you know I started out here trying to get him to kill me. I figured it would be easy. Only, that’s not what happened, and now I don’t think he ever will. Damn it!” Buffy jumped up, her hand clutching her head. “He was supposed to kill me, take Drusilla, and leave. Easy, easy, easy. Evil vampire kills the Slayer- seriously, how could that kind of plan get messed up? I’m so, so stupid! Argh!”

The last was a yell as Xander and Willow tackled her into the couch.

“Stop it Buffy!” Willow commanded. “Tell us what we can do to help,” she continued in a much gentler tone.

“If you’re gone, Buffy, that’s going to mess me up a lot more than the craziness of you being here.” Xander was holding her tightly.

“I know that,” Buffy said quietly. “I know that very well.” Buffy paused and took several deep breaths. She’d make sure that particular sin would never be repeated. “As for helping, just you guys being here is a ton of help. I’ve missed you. We’re not really close anymore where I come from. That’s one of the things I want to make better, but I’ve already changed so much since I got here that I no longer know what the future is going to look like.”

“It’s like the Observer effect in physics! Where you change something just by the fact you’re there watching it.” Willow was really excited, grabbing her friend’s hand and squeezing.

Buffy shook her head in exasperation. “Willow, I hate to tell you this, but just because I’m seven years older does not mean I have any clue what you’re talking about.”

“But you’ve been to college, right?”

“I was a liberal arts major for like two second, then life and slayage happened and I had to drop out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Willow looked so distressed that Buffy dropped her hand and instead reached over to wrap her in a hug.

“It’s ok, really. You’ve met me right? Buffy and great grades aren’t really all that compatible. I even fell asleep in psych class one time and had a Slayer dream.” She was really touched by Willow’s concern, it seemed like a long, long time since someone had worried about her future like that.

“What did you dream about?” Xander asked.

“That I was in class, then suddenly it was night.” Riley totally didn’t need to come into her story. “There was a little girl holding a box and saying a kind of nursery rhyme. It was totally creepy, and it ended being about these fairy tale monsters that stole people’s voices and hearts.” Buffy frowned. “Not like stole hearts romantically, they actually took them out of people’s chests.”

“Ah, another lovely day on the hellmouth,” Xander made a face.

“I beat ‘em, that’s what matters,” Buffy bragged.

“Absolutely,” Willow agreed.

“Hey, Buffy,” Xander said, a line appearing between his brows. “With you being all old, are you still going to be hanging with us?”

“What do you mean?” she asked. Where else would she be?

“That’s actually a good question.” Willow frowned. “Spike could probably get you fake documents that say you’re older than sixteen. I’m sure vampires need them all the time.”

“Well, I’m sure he could, but I don’t understand. I just want to stay with you guys, if you still want me around.” She hunched her shoulders, leaning forward so her crossed arms were resting on her knees. "I'm still the Slayer, no matter what the age on my driver's license says."

Xander patted her on the back. "Duh, we still want you around Buff, but going through high school again?" He shuddered. "I don't think I'd wish that on my worst enemy."

She shrugged. "It's not so bad, it's kind of surprising how much I don't remember." Buffy stood up and walked a few paces before turning around to face her still-seated friends. Hands on hips, she attempted to look authoritative. "So ground rules: First- do not think you’re going to be calling me mom, or grandma, because I’m older than you. Just no. And if I hear anything about "old lady" I swear I'll feed you to my vampire."

Willow and Xander chuckled nervously, but nodded.

"Secondly, I'm not a magic eight ball. I don't remember what I had for dinner two days ago, let alone every little thing from the last decade. And, as I said, things are already way different. So no asking me constantly about stuff. I’m not saying not ever, but not all the time. And you can’t get mad if I don’t tell you something. I’m not here so nothing ever goes wrong in your life.”

“Should I have another jelly donut?” Xander asked. Both girls groaned. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He snagged another one from the box, taking a huge bite.

“Thirdly.” Buffy’s chest constricted. “Thirdly, please remember I’m your friend. I love you guys so much. I know I’m all weird and wonky, but I’m trying.”

Willow got up and pulled Buffy into a hug while Xander hastily finished his donut so he could join in.

The group hug ended when Xander couldn’t stop himself from asking: “So, what about bleach boy?”

Buffy tossed her hands up and walked a few paces away from them. “He’s non-negotiable.”

Crossing her arms, Willow chewed on her bottom lip. “I know you guys are all with the feelings and smoochies, but we don’t quite get it…what with the evil and eating people and stuff.”

Buffy was a little lost about what to say. She didn’t want to defend his past atrocities, and she really didn’t want to explain her theory about the soul. Not when she hadn’t had the chance to talk to Spike about it yet. Willow and Xander were probably not looking for a big, in-depth conversation about the nature of good and evil and how both were just relative terms. With an exasperated sigh she settled on: “He needs time, guys. For more than a century he’s been conditioned to think and act a certain way. Give him credit for figuring out it’s not the only way to be. He’s even stopped killing. I think he’ll end up totally surprising you.”

“Hopefully with a tasteful set of matching dishes,” Xander joked.

“There’s my guy!” Buffy smiled at him. She grabbed the last doughnut out of the box and settled back on the couch. "Now that you guys know why I'm totally out of the school gossip loop- it's time to play catch up. I could really use a good gossip."

Her friends were more than happy to help.


	22. Home Again

'Cause all I really want is to be with you

            -Gin Blossoms, “Hey Jealousy”

****

Once again Buffy stood outside her front door, stalling. One trip back in time and she spent ages staring at her own front door. Enough, she told herself. You can deal with demons, death, magic, and randy vampires, one angry mother shouldn’t be so terrifying.

Another deep breath and she entered her house. Everything had been put back into place, no evidence of her and Spike’s fun was left. Buffy wondered what her mom had done with Spike’s shirt, she’d really like it for when he wasn’t around. How weird would it be if she asked him to wear the same shirt for like a week, then give it to her? The smell would be such a comfort. She chuckled to herself as she remembered the Spike from her past stealing her clothes, probably for more or less the same purpose. Suddenly that was a lot less icky and much more endearing.

The house was silent.

“Mom?” she called tentatively.  There was no answer.

She walked through the empty living room and into the dining room. Joyce was sitting at the table, the cleaver resting next to several empty coffee cups.

“Hi Mom,” Buffy said, dropping into a chair across the table from Joyce. Her mother didn’t look up at her.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing back up here, missy." Joyce continued to stare into her half finished coffee.

“Well, I live here, as far as I know.” Buffy had never seen her mother so cold and angry before. It was terrifying.

“You were certainly happy enough running out of here with that monster this morning.”

Buffy sighed. It was probably for the best if she left the monster comment alone. “Wasn’t it at least a little bit funny? Y’know, sort of a cliché, mom comes home early and finds her daughter in bed with some guy and chases him out of the house?”

Joyce finally looked up at her daughter. “You find it funny? I come home, exhausted from work, and find my sixteen-year-old daughter screwing a corpse older than the state of California? And that’s funny?”

Buffy’s eyes got very wide. “Ah…” _Think!_ “I’m not sixteen.”

So much for thinking.

“Excuse me?” Joyce was livid. “I believe I know my daughter’s age.”

“And Spike is like 5 years younger than the state.” _Not helping, Buffy_. “Uh, but that’s not important right now. So, to go back, I’m not sixteen. Well, at the moment my body is. This is very confusing, should I ask Giles to come over?”

“Have you been sleeping with him too?” Joyce bit out.

“What? Uh, no, but he’s…my…” Buffy trailed off, unsure of how to explain the term ‘Watcher’ to her mother. “Ugh. Look, I’ve told this story twice already in the last twenty-four hours. So I’ll make it short: in the future an artifact was used on me that resulted in me, twenty-three-year-old Buffy, being sent back to 1997 and into my sixteen -year-old body. Spike had been my…boyfriend for a while I came from. He died. I got sent back seven years. He’s here, I’m here. Moth to the flame. I think I’m…that I’ve…fallen in love with him, again. Everything’s happening kind of fast.”

“I’m supposed to believe this?” Joyce asked, incredulous.

“Uh, yeah.” The anxiety Buffy felt was starting to turn to panic. Her mind raced. Maybe she could just go to the factory. Since it was daylight most of the minions would be asleep. She was strong, she could take out a lot of them even if they weren't. Spike would be glad to see her; he’d listen to her. They’d get in his car and drive very far away from the hellmouth. Just him and her, everyone else could _sod off,_ to borrow a phrase. If he was worried about leaving Drusilla, they could chain her up and stick her in the trunk. Whatever, Buffy just wanted to get away.

“This was a mistake,” Buffy said. “I shouldn’t have come back.” She made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I mean to the house, but also in general. I wasn’t given a choice. I was forced back here. So I’ll go.” She started to push away from the table.

The coffee cup her mom had been holding clunked back onto the wooden surface. "Exactly where do you think you're going, Young Lady? We're not done here."

"We are totally done." Buffy rose, kicking her chair back.

"Going to run to your lover?" Joyce's voice was dark. "Ride off into the sunset with him and live happily ever after?"

Buffy snorted. "What I'm going to do is walk to an abandoned factory, dust a bunch of fledging vamps, and then hope Spike’s dumbass girlfriend doesn’t try to claw my eyes out. I should have done it weeks ago and spared everyone a bunch of trouble."

"Wait, this guy has a girlfriend and you've been sleeping with him?"  Joyce was up now, too.

"Wow, that's what you got out of that? Really? Well, news flash, Ms. Dumbass is clairvoyant so I'm pretty damn certain she knows exactly where Spike's been dipping his wick." Buffy stopped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my god, I can't believe I just said that to my mother." She doubled over, laughing.

“How can you be laughing? Buffy, what’s happened to you?”

“I already told you.” The giggles wouldn’t stop, “I’m-”

She was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. “Got it.” Buffy opened the door, still hysterical, to find her Watcher raising his hand for another knock. “Giles!”  

“Buffy, is everything ok?” He looked from her wide eyes to the sullen expression of her mom, who was now standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“No.” The giggles turned into sobs and she hurled herself against her Watcher in a tight hug. “Don’t leave me, again. Please, I’m sorry.”

Her ferocity made him stagger, and he had to catch himself on the door frame.

“Willow called me and said you might be in need of ‘backup’. I can see she was right and –Buffy, Slayer strength–” She loosened her hold a fraction and he patted her back. “I needed to apologize as well.”

Buffy lifted her tear-filled eyes to his face. Giles lightly grabbed her upper arms and steered her back into the living room, closing the door behind him.  She glanced at her mom, who hadn't moved since her Watcher’s arrival. Joyce’s mouth was a thin, bloodless line. Buffy perched on the couch and Giles sat down at the other end.

“Buffy, I cannot apologize enough for my actions last night.” He clasped his hands together, leaning forward with his arms on his knees. “In that minute you required more than a Watcher and I failed you. Honestly, I was afraid of what you were telling me. I should have given you what you needed.”

“And what did I need?” Buffy asked, crossing her arms over her stomach.

“Help,” he said. Her mouth opened in surprise. Giles glanced at Joyce.

“I just told her most of it.” Buffy scuffed the toes of her shoes against the floor.

He nodded. "I didn't react well, or at least how I wish I had. Frankly, it was easier to deal with the time travel than with the fact that a young woman I love as a daughter was confessing her suicidal nature to me. I set it aside and that was wrong.”

Joyce gasped, her hand fluttering to her throat.

Buffy was drumming her feet against the sofa with her head bowed. "Give me a minute. I…I need…I'm trying to sort stuff out. In my mind. Because it's super confusing. I was upset at you when we started talking yesterday and honestly, it was mostly for stuff you haven’t done yet. Sure, I’m not thrilled you just took Angel’s side after Halloween without talking to me first, but that’s not what’s really bothering me. I need to get my thoughts straight."  She pulled her knees up, laying her head against them. "Can you talk to my mom, Giles, while I'm doing the processing thing? Please? Tell her I’m not completely nuts?"

The Watcher looked over at Joyce, who'd remained standing stiffly in the same place since his arrival. "Buffy, you'd better fill me in. I think I'm missing something important."

She raised her head off her knees, glanced at her mom, and heaved a heavy sigh. "My mom got back from her trip a little early last night and I wasn't exactly alone."  With a huff, Buffy dropped her head back down. "And he vamped when she flipped the light in my room on."

"Ahh." Giles pursed his lips. "Were you two…busy, at the time?"

"Sleeping by then, just sleeping."

"Well, that could have been worse." Giles stood up and took Joyce by the elbow. "Why don't we head into the kitchen."

All three of them jumped as several loud thumps from outside rattled the front door in its frame.

Buffy hopped off the couch, her hand instinctively going to the stake tucked into the pocket of her jacket. She took a few steps towards the entrance before her Slayer senses told her what was going on. Hurriedly, she tossed open the door, grabbed the slightly singed vampire by his shirt and dragged him inside. He dropped the coat he’d been holding over his head back around his shoulders and smoothed the lapels down.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Buffy demanded. She was shaking with fear and anger. "It's the middle of the day! I'm supposed to be the one with a death wish!"

Spike was making sure his hair had mostly stayed in place.  He regarded her warily.

"You mad I'm here?" He finally asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes! Well, no. I…you…" she sputtered.  Her hand cracked across his cheek. "You could be dust, you jerk."

He caught her wrist as she raised her hand to strike him again and pulled Buffy roughly against him. "Ah, you're worried about me." He grinned. "I like that."

“Why are you here?” she asked, her hands resting lightly on the leather over his chest.

“I-” he sucked in his cheeks, narrowing his eyes at Buffy like he was considering what to tell her. She tapped her fingers impatiently on him while letting her expression tell him she wasn’t going to take any nonsense. At last he snorted. “Right, well, I couldn’t sleep. Kept thinking about you, mostly good things but also what might have happened if I hadn’t been fast enough last night. After a while I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to come and find you, needed to make sure you’re ok. I tried Red’s first and she sent me here."

Buffy laughed softly and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of his mouth. "Know what? I was totally losing it here. I was about to take off to the factory and dust as many minions as I needed to in order to get to you. Didn’t care if there were legions of them, they wouldn’t have been able to keep me away.”

Spike smiled at her, leaning down so their foreheads were touching. "Great minds and all that." One hand cupped her face, the black painted thumbnail rubbing softly over her cheek.

Giles clearing his throat made them both jump.

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. Buffy frowned, she’d been so wrapped up in her vampire she’d forgotten they weren’t alone.

Refusing to take any chances with his life, she stepped in front of Spike, her back ramrod straight and her hand clamped around the stake in her pocket. Giles was standing with his arms loosely crossed, a clenched jaw betraying the otherwise carefully schooled bland expression on his face. Her mom was opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water and making little sputtering noises.

A strong arm looped around her and Spike pulled her back against the wall of his chest. “Relax that death grip, Bess. You’re not going to be staking your Watcher or your mum.” Reluctantly, she pried her fingers off the weapon. Spike brought his other arm around her and dropped his head down so his chin was resting on her shoulder. It was both protective and possessive. Buffy’s heart was thudding with the thrill. Spike’s blue eyes flicked back and forth between Giles and Joyce, finally settling on the Watcher. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Well.” Giles shifted uncomfortably. “I was just about to have a talk with Buffy’s mom.” He walked over to Joyce, lightly taking hold of her shoulders and directing her towards the couch. “Why don’t you two make yourselves scarce for few minutes?”

“Basement,” Buffy said, slipping out of Spike’s grip only to grab his hand and pull him after her. She didn’t let go until they were through the kitchen and down the stairs. Spike started pacing on the cement floor while she sat on the bottom step.

After a few turns back and forth Spike asked her: “So what was that for?”

“What was what for?” Buffy was sitting with her elbows resting on her knees. She was giddy, so light headed that she was seriously concerned that she might pass out. Spike was in her basement. She’d relived that last night with him before the battle with the First over and over again in her head. The next day she’d lost both man and basement. Now she had them both back. It was enough to make her feel high.  

Spike had stopped pacing and was looking at her with his head tilted to the side. “Why’d you go standing in front of me? Not that I minded, but it’s bloody confusing.”

“All of this is confusing,” she replied.

“Isn’t it?” He sat down on the old cot, sending dust flying. He scooted back against the wall, letting his legs sprawl. “You didn’t answer my question.”

She was too busy staring. That cot. They’d slept snuggled together there. Her mouth was dry, her hands shaking hard enough that she clamped them between her knees. She looked up into his intense gaze. “It was instinct to protect someone I care about.” She watched as he digested that information, his hands tapping the sides of his legs. At last he smiled slightly and nodded.

“Guess that makes sense.”

Her emotions were starting to get the better of her. “Spike, do you believe me when I say I was sent back?” Her voice was slightly hoarse.

He leaned back, one arm behind his head. “Yeah, Bess, I do.”

“Why?”

“Why don’t you come over here and I’ll tell you?” He patted the top of his thigh.

Buffy uncurled herself and walked over to the cot. More dust went flying as she settled herself sideways across his lap with her head leaning against his shoulder. Spike’s arms closed around her, and she was home.

“Spill it, why do you believe me? My own mother looked like she was about to call the nice young men in their clean white coats. And sometime even I think I’m crazy and just made it all up. How can something have existed when only I remember it?”

“You’re not crazy. Trust me, I know crazy. I believe you because it’s easy to tell you’re no sixteen-year-old school miss.” The arm behind her back shifted so his hand could lightly pet the side of her face. “Yeah, y’know things, sure. But that’s not really it, you just seem older. How you carry yourself, what you worry about, how you think, even how you dress. You’re not a child.”

“Um, thanks, I think. That was a compliment, right?”

Spike chuckled. “Yes, luv, that was a compliment. And-” He paused, looking down at her from the corner of his eye. “There’re other things you do that show you have some…experience.”

“Like fucking?”

“Oi, language!” He scolded between barks laughter. “Yes, that, and fighting. Your every move shows you have far more than a year or two of Slaying under your belt.”

“That sounded like a real compliment.”  She stifled a yawn. “Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I was going to wait till I could get it checked out more, but I think I better go ahead and tell you. I have a theory about your spark.” She rested her hand over his heart.

“Oh?” He covered her hand with his.

“Don’t freak out, okay?”

“Because telling a bloke not to ‘freak out’ is the best way to reassure him that what you’re about to say is not worth freaking out over.”

“Just don’t.”

“Fine.”

“I think that the echo, or spark thingy, is actually a part of the Spike from the future I came from. Somehow it followed me. And here’s the freaky part for you: I think it’s all of, or at least part of, his, well your, soul.”

“Huh.”  He looked thoughtful, which was a lot better than what she’d been expecting. “But I’m not sitting around worrying about some chap I killed twenty years ago. No nightmares. None of the stuff Angel went through.”

“How many people have you killed since you’ve met me?”

“Two. There was a girl before the school attack and the kid from just the other night.” He looked perplexed, like there should have been more.

“Was there a difference between them?”

“Yeah, didn’t feel much about the girl. The boy, well, you know how that went.”

“It’s like it’s increasingly becoming a part of you.”

Spike considered that for a moment. “Yeah, I guess so. Judging from the look on your face I’m supposed to be pitching a fit right about now.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“I have no idea. Maybe I’m too bloody tired to give a rat’s ass about it right now. Anyway, you said it’s only a theory.”

“True. Can I tell you something else?” She nuzzled his shoulder, enjoying the smell of smoke, leather, and Spike.

“Is it going to potentially change the direction of my life for all time?”

She crinkled her nose. “I don’t think so.”

“Good, because I’m feeling a might topped off in that area at the moment.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. Buffy yawned again.

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s been kind of a long day, and then night, and then day again.”

“That’s alright, Slayer. I got you. It’s ok to fall out for a bit.” He let go with one arm briefly to grab the bottom edge of his coat and pull it out from under them. The leather was soft against her skin as he arranged it over her as a cover.

“This is nice,” Buffy said softly. “What I wanted to tell you is that whenever we’re together, it feels like heaven.”

Spike’s shoulder vibrated under her cheek.

“Are you laughing at me?” She poked his chest.

“I just think your idea of heaven might be a bit screwy, Bess.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “What do you feel?”

“Like I’m home, in a way that I haven’t felt in a hundred and twenty years.”

“I like that. I can be your home, Spike, but you have to be my heaven.”

His hand tangled in her hair as he gently turned his face up towards his. “That sounds like tall order.”

“Just be you. The heaven part takes care of itself. Like right now, there’s nowhere I’d rather be or anything else I’d rather be doing besides lying curled up with my vampire in my mother’s basement.” Spike’s chest rumbled slightly under her hand with a happy and pleased noise.

“You’re a treasure, pet. Now go to sleep, you’re so tired you’re delirious.”

Her eyelids drooped shut and she drifted off feeling warm, safe, and loved.


	23. Dinner

No matter what you are  
I will always be with you

            -Badfinger, “No Matter What”

****

Giles didn’t know where to begin, especially since Spike showing up had completely rattled his nerves. It didn't help that Joyce was now impatiently glaring at him. He wanted to reassure her, tell her everything was fine, but that was a big lie. Why couldn't it have been Angel? Explaining to a mum why her daughter was all moon-eyed over a mysterious, tall, dark and handsome stranger would be much easier than saying that they didn't have any choice about her shagging the leader of The Lost Boys.

"Mrs. Summers, I know this is a difficult thing to process–"

"Do you?" she snapped. "That's my daughter down there. With a monster. She's sixteen, just a baby, and you're okay with this?"

"No, I'm not."

She looked taken aback.

"Buffy is like a daughter to me, and I'm responsible for her safety in her duties as a Slayer. She is frequently challenging."

"That does sound like her." Joyce gave him a tiny, fleeting smile. "But I'm still confused about your relationship with my daughter. That thing called you her Watcher."

"It's an old term. There is a council that exists to serve as a repository of knowledge about the supernatural. From time immemorial they have sought out and trained the Slayer and guided her in her fight against the forces of darkness. I mentioned this briefly before, but you had a lot to deal with that night and may not recall. I do my best to help Buffy, when she’ll let me.”

“You weren’t in L.A. though, were you? When all this slaying stuff started?”

“No, her first Watcher died in the line of duty, defending her.”

Joyce was visibly shocked. She swallowed several times, obviously not knowing what to say.

“As would I,” Giles added.

“Thank you,” she finally whispered. "I had no idea. Buffy never said…"

“Your daughter is amazing. The most talented Slayer in centuries. It is I who struggles to be worthy of her.”

Joyce crossed her arms, her head bowed. “Do you believe her?”

“About what?” Giles prompted.

“About the time-travel thing.”

“Yes.”

Her face snapped towards him, fury in her gaze. He put up his hand to stop an outburst. “Mrs. Summers, I live and breathe in a world full of magic. Stranger and much worse things have happened. Buffy has more than proven to me that she has, in fact, lived through the next seven years and has now returned to this time and place. Did she not seem to suddenly grow up overnight a few weeks ago? It’s not your imagination.”   

“It’s hard to accept,” Joyce finally said. “But yes, she did suddenly change. Her room, her clothes, I thought she was just going through some phase.”

“Did Buffy explain you why this happened? Why she got sent back?” Joyce shook her head. “I hate to be the one to tell you then, but it needs to be said. Buffy committed suicide.”

Joyce gasped. “I heard you say something to her about suicide, but she actually tried it?”

“In the future she gravely injured herself, but there was enough time for those who cared about her to do something drastic to save her. Now she’s here, living though the consequences of a choice that wasn't hers.”

“Why? Why would my daughter want to hurt herself?” Joyce choked out.

Giles shrugged. “She’s not been a hundred percent forthcoming, but I believe Spike dying had a lot to do with her descending into a severe depression.”

Glancing towards the kitchen, Joyce looked confused. “That Spike?”

“Yes. You need to realize she hasn’t really had any treatment for her depression. When she first got here she simply planned to continue with her original idea of ending her own life. Buffy figured she could use Spike as her means to die. In her mind it was a perfect ending. Only, as you know, he ended up not killing her.”

"So, is she still…" Joyce trailed off. He understood her reluctance to use the word.

"As of last night, yes. She tried to hurt herself. The only reason Buffy's still alive is down in your basement with her right now. "

"He saved her?" Joyce's hands were shaking. Giles noted the pronoun change. Spike was no longer an ‘it’. 

“I would go with ‘stopped her’, but yes, he kept from harm. I’m guessing what you came home to was the aftermath of them working out their feelings over that.”

“They couldn’t have just talked about it?” Joyce leaned back, crossing her legs and tapping her fingers on the arm of the sofa.

Giles shook his head. “Look, Joyce, me and a mostly full bottle of scotch worked this out last night. I had to come to terms with what has happened. Beyond my own personal desire to see Buffy well and happy, the hellmouth needs an active and alive Slayer. If Spike is the key to all of that, then we need to just let her be, we need to trust her.” Joyce was worrying her bottom lip, but didn’t argue. “Think of this as an opportunity to get to know your adult daughter. Give her more responsibility, chores. Talk to her about bills and dinner menus. Most young women at twenty-three have moved out and speaking to mum has become an imposition, but she’s here, and she's trying. If you were suddenly zapped back to high school would you be so willing to do it all over again?”

“There’s no way out of this, is there?” Joyce sounded defeated.

“I’m sorry that you have to deal with it, but no. Buffy cannot go back to how she was and I believe any efforts to separate her and Spike would result in Buffy making the choice to exclude us from her life. Any ultimatums would, in the end, only wind up hurting us.”

“Then I’ll do my best. I’ll try to talk to her without blowing up.”

“Sounds excellent,” he said, getting up. “I’ll just grab them and see what the plans for tonight are.”

He opened the basement door and called: “Buffy?” There was no response. Giles took a few steps down and called again, with the same result. A few more steps and he could see Spike’s black boots hanging off the edge of the cot. Ducking down he saw his Slayer and the Master Vampire curled up around each other, fast asleep. He snorted softly and headed back upstairs.  

Joyce was waiting for him as he exited the basement. Quietly closing the door behind him, he gave her a shake of his head. "They're both out cold. Let's give them some peace." It was one of the strangest things he'd ever seen. The lion and the lamb. Only that didn’t work, because which one was the lion and which one the lamb? Cats and dogs, maybe.

Joyce nodded. "I'll head to the gallery for a few hours."

Again, Giles wished he had a way to smooth everything out and have it make complete sense for the woman. Only he was still flummoxed himself. All he knew was that his Slayer had decided to throw her lot in with one of the most notorious and bloodthirsty killers of the last century, and that at the moment it was safer for her to be in his arms than anywhere else.

“I’ll just be going then,” he said, and let himself out. Hopefully Joyce would find a way to make peace with Buffy, for her sake. He knew the Slayer had already made her choice.

****

Waking up always sucked. Buffy felt cramped and stiff. Oh, she was sitting up, leaning against- mmmmm. She turned her face into him, rubbing her nose against the leather like a cat. Spike’s chest rose and fell in a soft breath. Looking up she saw that he was sleeping, head tipped forward, lashes dark half-circles on his checks.

Her heart was doing funny flops and twists up in her throat. In sleep he looked so, well, not innocent, he was too pretty for that. Relaxed, unguarded, all the tough guy posturing gone. Hoping her morning breath wasn't too bad, she hesitantly brought her mouth to his. His lips were soft and cool, a little dry as she ran her tongue along the bottom one. Spike’s eyes blinked open, looking more black than blue in the low light of the basement. Those eyes met hers, widened, and suddenly she was crushed against him. His mouth was hard and demanding, his tongue eagerly twisting around hers.

They both were panting when Buffy had to break the kiss in order to breathe.

“Good morning, Bess,” he purred into her ear.

“Unh-” she replied, moving to kiss him again, but he stopped her with a shake of his head.

“It's nearly sunset, and your mum’s upstairs cooking something in the kitchen.”  

“I’m not seeing your point.”

“She’s probably expecting us to come up there and be nice and polite and talk about things.”

“You’re saying we should go and try doing the responsible adult thing again.”

“Maybe. You’re going to have to get up first,” his arms remained locked around her.

“No, you first,” she said petulantly, sticking her lower lip out in a pout. It was mostly an attempt to coax her vampire back into a kiss and it worked exactly as planned. Spike attacked her lip, sucking and nibbling at it. She used the opportunity to wriggle around so she was on her knees, straddling him. Buffy rested her elbows on his shoulders, tangling her hands in his hair.

A clatter from upstairs made them pause.  Spike leaned back against the wall. She looked down at him, lips pursed. Reluctantly, Buffy stood up.  The vampire pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one, the grey smoke curling up towards the ceiling.

Her eyes followed the smoke for minute and something in her stomach twisted. A blink and the basement seemed much darker and she was watching Spike sitting there, smoking, with Faith beside him. Faith that always took everything from her. Faith that did all the bad things that Miss Madonna-Buffy was never, ever, supposed to even want to do.  

Buffy’s hands curled into fists.

****

Spike wasn’t sure what had gotten into his girl. She was standing there staring, not at him but at the empty space on the cot next to him, with murder in her eyes. He had the distinct impression that she’d mentally gone somewhere else. Or, more likely, some-when else.

Buffy’s eyes focused and found his. She reached out and plucked the cigarette from between his lips. “Take your shirt off.” He opened his mouth and nearly asked what had happened to the responsible adult thing, but then he shrugged and did as she asked. Obviously his girl needed him for something. Leaning forward, he quickly stripped and tossed his shirts into pile on the floor. The coat he folded neatly first. Buffy pushed him back against the wall, mussed his hair, covered his legs with a scratchy blanket she’d gotten from who knows where, and stuck the fag into the corner of his mouth. He sucked in a lung full of smoke and let it out slowly, watching Buffy as she paced back and forth. Her eyes were glazed; she was definitely somewhere deep inside her own head.

After several turns she stopped pacing and turned to glare at him, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked pissed. “Faith?” He took another drag on the cigarette to keep from having to answer. “She tried to take everything from me. My place in the world, my life. Hell, she even took my body.” Spike raised an eyebrow at that. “Screwed my boyfriend with it.” He couldn’t stop the growl that rumbled through him. Boyfriend? He knew in some distant, intellectual way that in her first go around she’d been with other guys, but his demon really didn’t care about the niceties of time travel. It wanted blood now. He had to stop himself from pinning her against the wall and demanding to know who this ‘boyfriend’ was so he could rip him limb-from-limb. After he shagged her senseless, of course.

“And now she tried to take you. I can’t even tell if she did or not, though it sure looked like she might have. Not much clothing and the two of you having a smoke?”  Buffy cocked her head to the side, her eyes boring into him.

His thoughts of raining bloody destruction on anyone that dared touch her came to a screeching halt. Oh, christ. He had no idea what she was on about. Surely he wouldn’t have been screwing around on her? Since he’d woken up his spark had just sort of been humming with afterglow from having spent so long curled up with her. Desperately, he gave it a mental poke.

_Oi, mate. Little help here. Nothing happened with this Faith bird, right?_

The spark jumped a little and he got a wave of indignation. Thank god. Spike rolled the cigarette butt between his fingers. “Nothing happened, luv. You know that.”

“Do I?” Buffy wrapped her arms tighter around herself. “Everything gets taken away from me. I’ve given up all that I am, all that I have, even my own life, but it’s never enough.” She sighed, her eyes falling to the floor. “I give, and I give, and I give. Until there’s nothing left, but still I’m asked for more.” She looked so…broken that Spike started to get up to go to her.

“No!” Her voice whipped out and he froze, sitting on the edge of the bed. “They take everything else, but I’m drawing the line. They can’t have you.” Her gaze met his and turned predatory. “Not Faith, not Anya, not any of those little dewy-eyed potentials. You are mine.” Her words shook him to the core. Everything inside him–spark, demon, man–was reaching out towards her, yearning for her.

She pulled her coat off and dropped it to the floor, her blouse quickly following it. There wasn’t a bra. He licked his lips and watched her breasts sway as she walked over to stand right in front of him. His cock was standing at full attention, pressing painfully against his zipper. With a groan he moved to undo his pants, only Buffy knocked his hands away and pushed him back until he was propped up on his elbows, panting. She knelt in front of him and pulled the blanket away. The bulge in his jeans was obvious. Biting her lip, Buffy considered it. Her hands landed on his knees. pushing them wide so she could move closer to him. She ran her hands teasingly up his thighs until her fingers found the button at the top of his fly.

****

Buffy still felt ungrounded. One minute her mom was upstairs making dinner and the next a houseful of potentials was breathing down her neck. She ignored both. Slowly, she undid Spike’s fly, making him raise his hips so she could slide the jeans down and off his legs. Sitting back on her heels, she let her eyes roam over him even as her fingers itched to touch. He was all hard planes and tight muscles, light and shadow.  His cock jutted proudly over his belly, its thick base surrounded by light brown curls. Under her intense stare it jumped, making her grin.  At any second someone- Dawn, Andrew, Faith- could come down those stairs and find them.

Her grin turned feral. Let them. She didn’t care who saw, not anymore. Spike was hers and the entire world could know it. Buffy made quick work of the rest of her clothes and knelt down between his knees again. She kissed and nibbled up the inside of one thigh, then the other.  She wrapped her hand around his shaft, licked him from base to tip, darted her tongue into the slit and the top, and swallowed him nearly whole.

Spike’s hips bucked up and he was making inarticulate sounds. She smiled around his cock. Good. Buffy worked her mouth up and down his length a few more times, enjoying how much he was at her mercy. With a sigh, she slid him out of her mouth even as her thumb and forefinger tightened like a vice around the base. She looked up, meeting his wide eyes.

“Uh, Bess…”

She shrugged. “I don’t have a cock ring handy.” She grabbed his hand, spat into it and wrapped in around his own erection. “Now stroke.” The look on his face of mingled surprise, awe, and glee was something she wished she had a camera for. _Yeah, baby, I’m a dirty girl_. As soon as he complied with her instructions, unhurriedly dragging his hand up and down his own dick, she bent down to his sac and delicately sucked a testicle into her mouth.

“Buffy,” he panted. “I…oh, christ…” She let go of one side only to switch to the other. “I really like your idea of heaven.” She chuckled and his thighs shivered around her. Letting his balls go with a final kiss, she brought her lips back to his inner thigh. With gentle strokes she laved a spot with her tongue. Her gaze flicked back up to Spike’s, making sure he was watching her. His eyelids were heavy, but she had his rapt attention. Baring her teeth she struck, biting down hard on the spot she’d she been licking. The skin barely broke, but she knew he’d have a heck of bruise. She sucked at the pale skin, making sure he’d be marked. Beside her head his fist had tightened around his cock and he was jerking himself off in earnest now.

Shifting onto her heels, she admired the dark purple mark she’d given him, blowing across it to make his skin shiver. It’d be impossible for someone else to get his pants off and not notice the hickey. She eyed his other thigh.

With a groan, Spike’s stilled his hand. “Get up here. I need to taste you.” She frowned, not sure she was done with him. “Now,” he ground out. With a started ‘eep’ Buffy found herself hauled onto the cot so she was straddling his chest, her head level with his groin. Oh, _that’s_ what he wanted. She scooted back until she had a knee on either side of his head. His hands grabbed her ass and he buried his face in her sex, licking, sucking, and nipping at her drenched folds.

Her fingers were still locked around the base of his cock. The head had darkened to a deep red color. She really was torturing the poor thing. Too bad. She sucked his length back into her mouth, the angle making it easy for her to take nearly the entirety of him down her throat. She swallowed around him and Spike moaned against her pussy, his tongue pushing hard up inside of her. The rough pads of his fingers found her clit and stroked her to the rhythm she set as her mouth slid up and down his shaft.

Buffy couldn’t help the mews she made as her body tightened. She rocked herself faster against his tongue and fingers, seeking the release she was denying him. As she peaked she ground herself frantically into him, her legs crushing his ears. She stopped moving as she rode out her orgasm. Spike’s hips jerked up so he was still fucking her mouth while she cried out her pleasure.

The waves of her first orgasm had barely ceased when the second one started to build. Buffy finally released her stranglehold on his dick, moving her hand to press against the bruise she’d given him. He came nearly instantly and Buffy greedily swallowed down his spendings. As she sucked him dry he grabbed her hips and lifted her up. She whimpered at the loss of contact until he sank his fangs into the sensitive skin of her thigh.

She came, hard, stars dancing in front of her eyes. Her voice was gone, she was just whispering his name over and over as he sucked at the wound. When Spike let her go she collapsed beside him. He sat up and turned her so that she was on her back and he was kneeling in between her thighs. His eyes were fixed on the mark from the bite he’d just given her, and he ran a finger back and forth across it.

“Good girl,” he muttered to her. “What a good girl you are.”

Hazily, she lifted her head. He was already hard again. Perfect, she wasn’t done either. Buffy held out her arms to him and he eagerly covered her body, his cock sinking deep inside her. They rolled on their sides, the pace of their lovemaking unhurried. Spike’s hand drifted back to the mark on her thigh and stroked it. She kissed him, moaning into his mouth when his fingers pressed harder against the bruise.

She was never letting him go again. Never.

****

Joyce knocked loudly on the basement door before opening it. “Dinner’s ready!” she called down.

“Coming!” Buffy hollered back. A smothered giggle and what sounded disturbingly like a growl echoed up the stairs. With a sigh, Joyce shut the door. Why did every generation believe it’d invented sex?

It was a good ten minutes before the stairs creaked and Buffy and her…boyfriend whirled into the kitchen. Both were rumpled and trying their absolute best to not look like they’d just been doing what they’d been doing.

“There’s spaghetti and sauce if you want to make yourself a plate, Buffy. Bread and salad are on the table. Uh, Spike, there’s blood from the butchers in the fridge for you. I didn’t how to prepare it so I left that part up to you.”

His face lit up. “Ta, Joyce.” The smile he gave her was absolutely devastating. Okay, so her daughter obviously wasn’t blind.

“I’ll get it if you’ll take these for the table for me.” Buffy handed him a couple of plates with spaghetti and sauce and the vampire obediently headed for the dining room. Her daughter pulled the Styrofoam container out of the fridge and nonchalantly poured about half of it into a mug. She set the cup in the microwave and typed in what was clearly a familiar string of commands before putting up the rest of the blood.

“It was a little strange, going to the butchers and asking for blood, but the man behind the counter didn’t even blink. He just asked me what sized container.” Joyce felt her voice tremble. She was no longer quite sure how to handle Buffy. Her daughter was almost a stranger to her.  

“You’re far from the only person buying it, though you might be one of the few daytime customers.” Buffy chuckled and came around the counter to hug her. “Thanks, Mom. You have no idea how much it means to me.” Joyce was surprised to see tears in her daughter’s eyes. “I know this is all really complicated and out of the blue for you, so thank you.” The microwave beeped and Buffy grabbed the mug, carrying it into the dining room.

Joyce followed her and smiled to see the candles on the table lit and the wine she’d set out had been opened and poured. Only there was glass was sitting at Buffy’s plate. Joyce nearly said something, but stopped herself. Twenty-three. Her daughter was twenty-three, she’d probably been drinking alcohol for a while and snapping at her about it wasn’t going to go over well.

With a sigh, Joyce sat down and picked up a fork. “So, Spike.” He stopped with the mug of blood halfway to his lips. “Buffy tells me you’re from London.”

He took a large swallow before setting the mug back down. “Uh, yeah. I mean, yes ma’am. London born and bred. It’s a bit nicer now than it used to be, air won’t turn your lungs black anymore.” He glanced at Buffy and smiled. “I’d like to show you someday.” Her daughter beamed at him. “And Paris. No lines right now about sacred callings. They can spare you for a couple weeks at some point.”  Something about that bothered Joyce. Was Buffy, as the Slayer, not allowed to travel? She’d ask later. This dinner was so she could get to know her daughter’s boyfriend better.

“I’m guessing ‘Spike’ is not your given name?” she asked.

He chuckled. “No, it’s a nickname that-“ He winced as Buffy kicked him under the table and gave him a death glare. “William.”

“Do you have a last name, William?”

“Pratt.”

“And do you have a degree of any kind?”

His eyes slid over to Buffy, who looked like she was trying not to giggle. “It’s okay, you’re trying to impress my mom, not convince a roomful of minions that you’re the big bad.”

With a sigh, he picked up a fork and began poking at the pasta on his plate. “Fine, I have a degree in Literature from Oxford.”

Joyce blinked. That’d been unexpected.

Buffy poked him. “Specializing in…”

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“Do you see a stake?”

Joyce cleared her throat.

Spike looked heavenward. “Emphasis in poetry.”  He speared a meatball and chomped down on it.

Joyce frowned. “You’re eating?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You went to the trouble of cooking all this; it’d be rude of me not to. It’s very good, by the way.”

There was about fifty questions Joyce wanted to ask, probably none of which were appropriate dinner conversation.

“Thank you,’ she said at last, making a mental list of things to grill her daughter about later.

Spike glanced at her daughter then back at her. “Buffy tells me you run a gallery, do you mind me asking what kind of artwork you focus on?”

The conversation became easier from there as she found him a great deal more knowledgeable about 20th century art that she’d been expecting. When she went to carry a few empty plates back to the kitchen she realized he probably knew so much because he’d lived through the twentieth century. That made her feel…odd.  She looked towards the dining room. Under the table her daughter and the vampire were, of all things, holding hands.

Joyce shook her head. She didn’t know what to make of the whole situation. He was a walking contradiction. She’d seen him as a monster, knew he was a killer, but he was also a Victorian gentleman who liked poetry and could hold a decent conversation about art. The only thing that was clear to her was that her daughter was head over heels in love with him and he with her. Perhaps, if he was as good a fighter as he was a talker, he could be someone to both help and protect Buffy when she was out doing her duty as the Slayer. The thought made her warm up a lot more towards him.

She put the kettle on to boil and strolled back into the dining room. “So, does anyone want hot chocolate?”

Spike looked delighted. “Do you have any of those little marshmallows?”


	24. Patrol

I'm searching for a future

            -Germs, “Lexicon Devil”

****

The sunlight flowing over her skin felt delicious. “Best idea ever.” Buffy smiled at Willow. “This is way better than staring at books in the Library.”

They were lazing on the ground, heads pillowed on their school bags, enjoying the early afternoon sun.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you, though you don’t have to answer or anything because…you can tell me it’s totally none of my business and I’m prying and…”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “You have to actually ask a question before I can decide to answer it or not.”

“Well, I was just thinking the other day about how lucky we all are that Spike wanted to make smoochies with you and not, like, eat you for dinner.” Buffy snorted and Willow frowned at her. “But, anyway, I was wondering if you had other boyfriends besides him, y’know, back where you…the first time around.”

“Yeah, I had other boyfriends before we got together. I don’t have good luck with guys, but I’m  sure you don’t want to hear my tale of woe.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Willow reached over, found Buffy’s hand, and interlocked their fingers.

“Mostly because it sucks. Right now, as weird and confusing as this whole time-travel thing is, what I’ve got going with Spike is the best relationship I’ve ever had.”

Willow squeezed her hand. “Just talk.”

“The first big mistake I made in my crap show of a love life was Angel.”

“That’s not surprising.”

“That it was Angel or that it was a mistake?”

Willow gigged. “Both.”

“It turned out really, super, fantastically bad.” Buffy sighed. “I was playing Juliet to his Romeo and thinking we’d be together forever and that I could never love someone like that ever again. But then I slept with him.”

“He was that bad?”

“Eh, the sleeping with part was okay for a virgin on her seventeenth birthday.”

“Oh, wow,” Willow breathed. “That’s still like months away.”

“Yeah, time-travel is odd. Anyway, however I felt about the sex doesn’t matter because he really, really liked it. It was a moment of perfect happiness for him and ‘poof’ bye-bye soul.”

“Not good?”

“Really not good. Angelus is not someone you want to meet. Ever.”

“That’s why you’ve been so jerky to Angel, isn’t it? You don’t want to ever be the one to make him happy.”

Buffy let go of Willow’s hand and sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Yeah. It’s something that seriously screws up a lot of stuff. It’s kind of still screwing me up.” Willow frowned. Buffy glanced over at her, considering. Finally, she took a deep breath. “I think Spike’s got his soul. He had it where I came from and it must have followed me back, or something.

Willow giggled, then flat out laughed, throwing her arm over her eyes.

“And that’s funny why?” Buffy’s tone was clipped.

“I’m sorry,” Willow said with a big grin. “I’m just thinking that it obviously can’t be the same curse as Angel’s because you’ve so given Spike more than one happy and if his soul is still hanging around…I mean, you don’t, like, have to pause and check after each time, do you?”

“God, it’s not the same at all.” Buffy reached out and pulled Willow’s bag out from under her head, forcing her to sit up too. “He won his soul, for me.” Searching through Willow’s bag, she found a white-out pen and uncapped it. “Look, every guy in my life, from my dad, to Angel, and all my other boyfriends, they left me. Even Giles finally got sick of me and left.” Willow looked shocked. “Every single one, gone, except Spike. Until he went away too, burned to ash to save the world.” Buffy was bent over Willow’s bag, using the white-out to write on the fabric. “Only not all of him was destroyed, some part of his soul must have stayed with me and I carried it back.  I don’t even have words to explain how amazing that is to me. And I don’t think Spike, as he is now, would ever leave, either. He feels…permanent.” Buffy capped the pen and blew on the white-out to dry it. For a moment, panic ran icy down her back. She needed to see him, needed to make sure he was real. Her fingers tensed.

Willow yanked her bag back from Buffy’s lap. “Dingoes Ate My Baby?” the redhead asked in confusion, reading what Buffy had written

“Yeah, y’know, the local band that plays at the Bronze all the time?” Some of the panic leeched out of her. She’d see him tonight. They’d patrol together. It was okay. She took a deep breath.

“I know them, but I’m not that into them.”

“The singer’s crap but the rest of the band isn’t so bad.” Buffy shrugged, trying to appear disinterested. Judging from the incredulous look Willow was giving her it wasn’t working.

“Ri-i-i-ght,” Willow drawled. “Any other guys you went out with that you can tell me about?”

“In college I dated this guy from Iowa named Riley. Spike called him ‘Captain Cardboard’.”

“Now that sounds like a story.”

****

The graveyard was pretty dead for a Friday night in Sunnydale.

"Keep a firm grip on it, like this." Giles made sure Xander was watching him. The young man looked uncomfortable and was breathing rapidly. He really shouldn't be scared, it's not like this was his first time.

"Is this how Buffy does it?" Xander asked timidly, his eyes pleading for approval.

"She's much better at it, but she's been doing it for years." At least Xander was willing to try, even if it made him nervous. "Here, let me-" Giles wrapped his hand over the teen's, making sure he was holding it right.

The boy sighed. "No matter how I hold this stake I'm not really sure some vampire isn't going to get a nice, Xander-shaped snack."

Giles sighed, dropping his arm. He really should have called Buffy up and made sure she was planning to patrol tonight. At school he’d been busy and during the study period she usually spent in the Library, she and Willow had disappeared together somewhere to talk. Mostly likely about stuff that not only would they not appreciate him overhearing, but probably things that would have given him nightmares for months.

So he’d missed his Slayer and was now stuck trying to convince a scared kid that he had any chance of actually taking down a demon. "Look, if you get worried, you run. There's no shame. We’re out here to stake any fledglings we find. Anything scarier we make a note of where we saw it so we can tell Buffy. Come on, there's a couple of fresh graves over by the old Whitmore mausoleum."

At least the weather was nice. There was something to be said for a graveyard in November with warm weather and not even a hint of mist. If it wasn't for the chance of death it’d almost be a pleasant stroll. The two graves they were looking for were separated by several others, the deceased not having known each other.

"Now, Xander, we wait."

"How long?"

"Just until midnight. If they're going to rise they'll do it by then."

"I should have brought snacks. And Buffy doesn't always stay out to midnight,” Xander grumbled.

"Buffy could simply stand here and her Slayer senses would tell her if there was a vampire in the graves or not. She might even be able to hear them. We're not so lucky." Giles leaned back against the mausoleum, and Xander sat on the ground.

****

It had been twenty very long minutes, which Xander knew because he was looking at his watch every thirty seconds. He was grumpy and hungry and the hands didn’t move any faster no matter how hard he stared at them. He’d started counting blades of grass when he heard a voice from the other side of the mausoleum.

"I'm sorry if it hurts your feeling, but I really do like Joy Division more," said a girl, her voice slightly muffled by distance.

"Seriously woman! They aren't even properly a punk band. Joy Division was one of the first to be considered post-punk. And they wouldn't even exist if it wasn't for the Sex Pistols," a very British voice replied.

Xander looked at Giles, who appeared confused but motioned for him to keep quiet.

The woman groused: "If you're just going to continue to be wrong we should stop having this conversation." She sounded really familiar.

"You should just shut up then." The guy gave an exasperated sigh.

"Make me," taunted the woman.

There was the sound of a short scuffle and the thud of a body impacting the solid side of the mausoleum. Worried that someone was being hurt, Xander rushed around the side of the tomb, clutching his stake.  Giles was at his heels.

The young man slid to a stop. "Buffy?" he gasped. It was definitely his friend, with her back against the concrete and her legs wrapped around the waist of a guy who was grinding his mouth, and other parts of himself, against her.

"Buffy, Spike, " Giles said loudly next to Xander. "I'm glad to see you decided to patrol." As the guy turned towards them, Xander recognized him as the same one she'd been all over at The Bronze. The couple reluctantly parted, both of them shooting annoyed looks at the Watcher. Xander felt his mouth go dry as the vampire's gaze shifted to him. The dude was kind of scary.

"Hi, Giles!" Buffy chirped, obviously deciding to ignore the weirdness of the situation. "It's not my night off, so yeah, I'm all with the patrolling. What're you doing out here?"

"What's with bleach boy?" Xander asked.

"Nice to meet you too, Whelp." Spike rolled his eyes.

"Spike, this is Xander, who's a good friend. Xander, this is Spike." The two just glared at each other. Buffy huffed and crossed her arms. "I guess some things never change," she said, exasperated.

The corner of the vampire's mouth twitched upward and he inclined his head towards Xander. "I'll tolerate you if you tolerate me.”  

Xander watched Buffy's jaw go slack as she stared up at the vamp in surprise, and he got it. He and Spike must have never gotten along and it had probably always bugged Buffy. If the vamp was willing to try and be different to make her happy, that did make him slightly less of a bad guy, and Xander certainly didn't want to be the one to disappoint her. "Sounds like a plan." He walked over and stuck out his hand. Spike first looked surprised, and then dumbfounded.

"Deal, then,” the vampire agreed.

The hand that shook Xander's was freezing, but Buffy's beaming smile was more than worth making a pact with the undead for.

Xander let go of Spike’s hand but leaned towards the vampire. “Just to make sure, you don’t have a motorcycle, do you?”

Spike’s scarred eyebrow rose. “No, the bloody things are death traps.”

The young man nodded his head once, emphatically. “Good.”

"There are a couple of fresh graves on the other side we're watching," an uncomfortable looking Giles broke in, answering Buffy's earlier question.

"We'll take a look." She grabbed Spike's hand as they headed for the fresh dirt. They stood in front of one, then the other, and quickly conferred with their heads together.

"Both the wankers are resting at peace," Spike said at last, leaning against a headstone. He had a cigarette in his hand and was fishing around in his pockets. "Hey, Buffy, you seen my lighter?" She frowned and patted her own jeans, pulling the zippo from the back pocket and flicking it for him. He bent down and lit the cig before taking the lighter and dropping it in the duster. "Thanks, luv."

Xander blinked. It was so strangely…intimate. Like they’d known each other forever.

"We've got it from here if you two want to head home," Buffy said. "I really appreciate you guys being willing to help out."

Giles motioned his Slayer over, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "You sure you're safe out here?"

Buffy scrunched up her nose. "Why wouldn't I be? Is there something I don't know? I can think of a lot of really bad things, only we should have years to prepare. But if one of them moves up the time table I could be caught with my metaphorical pants down.” Her hands tightened into fists, but when Giles' eyes shifted towards Spike, Buffy immediately relaxed. "Yeah, I'm good. Thanks, Dad. Also he can hear you."

Spike flicked ash in the Watcher's direction.

"Well, in that case we'll leave you to it. I'll see you tomorrow, Buffy." Giles shifted awkwardly on his feet. He lightly touched Buffy’s arm before nodding in Spike's direction. The vamp acknowledged it with a jerk of his chin.

Xander waved as the couple headed off into the graveyard to continue patrol. Buffy waved back absently over her shoulder. He and Giles watched as they left.

"So what about American bands, then?" Spike’s voice echoed oddly off the marble tombs. “You got a favorite?”

“That's a loaded question," Buffy replied. "You were in New York in the '70s. Whatever I say I'm going to be wrong and then I’ll have to listen to you whine about it."

"I don't whine."

"The Dead Boys.”

"Well, that's ironic." The voices faded as the vampire and Slayer got further away.

"Let's go home," Xander said. "And never talk about this again."

"Yes, quite right," Giles agreed.

****

Spike was still trying to figure out how exactly Buffy had talked him into going to The Sunset Club with her. Being dragged to a vampire-wanna-be bar was not high on his to-do list, but she'd convinced him by pouting and pointing out she needed to make sure no actual vampires were hanging about potentially taking victims from among the deluded. He'd retorted that by dragging him there she was creating the situation she was trying to prevent.

She’d thrown up her hands and yelled something about him biting people and stormed off. The spark had spit fire at him for upsetting her. He growled.  The damn thing should know there was no way in hell he’d done it on purpose. It’d been easier to deal with before he’d had some clue what it was.

Running after his girl, Spike hadn’t caught up with her until they were right outside her house.

“What’s wrong?” he growled.

“You want to bite people!”

“I’m a vampire! And you know how many people I’ve killed since I met you!”

She was glaring at him. “Not. To. Kill.”

He blinked. “Look, this shouldn’t be a stretch for you. Pretend I’m stupid, yeah? Explain this to me.”

“I…I…” She deflated. “Don’t bite anyone, okay.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“I know some people like it and there might be those kind of people where we’re going tonight.” She was looking at the sidewalk. “I just… I’ll kill them.”

“Hey.” He reached out and put a finger under her chin. He’d figured it out, Buffy was jealous. She raised green eyes shimmering with tears to his face. “I’ll make you a deal. I won’t bite anyone, except you, and you don’t let anyone else put their fangs in you, except me.”  She nodded, a shy smile curving her lips. “I’ll never give you a reason to kill someone, you got that?”

“Yes. Thank you.” The emotion in her eyes threatened to overwhelm him.

He kissed her, softly. God, she had to know he was all hers. After a few moments he reluctantly straightened up. “Now go get yourself all gussied up, we have a club to get to.”

"I'll just be a minute."

"I'll be right here, Bess, no worries." Spike stood next to the tree, watching as Buffy gracefully climbed up through her window. He lit a smoke, continuing to stare up at her room, listening as she shed her patrol clothes and rifled through her closet. There was a knock at the bedroom door, and he could tell Joyce was speaking with Buffy, but not what was being said. The door clicked closed and Buffy leaned through her window.

"Mom says I'm too old to be sneaking through the window and for you to come in and wait downstairs." Her shoulders were bare, and he idly wondered if she had a stitch on.

Holding up his half smoked cigarette, he waved it at her. "Soon as I'm done."

He didn't rush, knowing she'd be like every other girl and take until sometime next week to get ready. Flicking the butt of his cigarette next to the tree, Spike walked up and knocked at the door. Joyce let him in, smiling and offering to make him a cup of cocoa while he waited.

Sitting in the living room, they watched the late news awkwardly together until he heard Buffy's feet on the stairs. Popping up out of the chair he went and stood at the bottom of the steps, one foot resting on the first riser.

She was a vision. The spark was a little ball of bliss, as thrilled as he was. He rubbed the spot absently, watching her descend. She had on a black dress with a wide vertical red stripe on each side. It was made of some clingy material that hugged her breasts and hips. She'd done something to her hair to make it much curlier than normal and had a killer set of strappy heels on. A black choker ringed her neck, taunting him with the way it pressed into her skin.

When she stood in front of him he couldn't come up with anything to say. He managed a few inarticulate sounds while she smiled at him like the cat that ate the canary.

****

Joyce broke the silence. "Well, I can see why you were so insistent on buying that outfit." The red on the dress was the same shade as Spike’s button down. Side by side the vampire and Slayer appeared awfully intimidating. Her little girl was gone. She smiled softly. "You look wonderful, honey."

"Thanks, Mom. Don't wait up." Buffy gave her a peck on the cheek as they walked out.

When Spike went by Joyce grabbed his sleeve. "Take care of her. She's still my baby." He nodded, then left in a swirl of leather.


	25. Sunset Club

I've got to let you know

            -INXS, “Need You Tonight”

****

“This club does serve drinks, right?” Spike asked as they walked up to the door.  His duster, at Buffy's insistence, had been left behind in the DeSoto. He’d been surprised her mum had let her out of the house in that dress as it left almost nothing to the imagination, but he couldn't deny they looked good together.

Patrol had been so uneventful that Spike found himself getting antsy. If there was a problem at the club, it needed show itself quickly. The Slayer breathing in that dress was distracting, the thought of her fighting in it was going to drive him around the bend. His eyes shifted down, admiring the way her ass looked in the tight fabric. If there wasn't a fight about thirty seconds after they got in there, she was going to have to let him find a dark corner to fuck her in, he didn't have much patience left.

Reaching forward, he lightly ran a finger up the inside of her thigh just as she knocked on the door, making her quiver. He continued his upward journey, a little gasp escaping him when his finger found only her soft folds instead of the lacey fabric he’d been expecting. She wasn't wearing any knickers. He stroked her clit, earning him a little moan and a sharp elbow to the ribs. "Quit it Spike," she hissed, and he pulled his hand away. "Soon," she added, making him chuckle. What a piece of work his Bess was.

The window in the door slid open and Buffy gave the password. The kid swung it open to let them in. As soon as they were three steps into the place Spike had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "What a sorry lot," he whispered in her ear.

"You're not wrong. Let's find the bar."

He sat her at a table, watching as Nosferatu played on a tv set that was sunk into the wall. This place was crazy. Though so far his personal favorite was the gent resting, arms crossed, in an upright coffin. Humans really had no clue. At the bar he ordered a beer and a glass of wine for Buffy. While he was waiting a bloke in a ridiculous cape strode up to him.

"Welcome to The Sunset Club! Is this your first time here?"

"Yeah." Was Buffy actually expecting him to play nice with these cretins?

The kid seemed unfazed by his terseness. "I hope you enjoy your stay here in the dark." The last was followed by a melodramatic laugh. "What draws you to the children of the night?" Spike just sighed.

"Ask the bird over there." He indicated Buffy with a nod. "She's the one who loves blood-suckers. I'm just buying the drinks."

Thankfully, the bartender picked right then to plunk down his order. Spike snatched the glasses up. "Cheers mate," he said to the cape, and walked back to Buffy. "I might die of laughter in here, pet," he complained, trying to look as put upon as possible.

"Your restraint so far has been admirable." She patted his hand before taking a sip of the white wine he'd brought her. "Oh, yummy, good choice." She emptied half the glass in a long gulp, tilting her head back so the column of her throat was exposed. She licked her lips afterwards. Tease.

"I thought we were looking for baddies," he said dryly.

"We are."

"It's a might difficult when you're being so distracting."

"You sense anything off in here?" She crossed her arms under her breasts, emphasizing the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Christ, she was trying to kill him.

"You mean, besides the obvious fact that a bunch of idiots are idolizing creatures they know nothing about?"

"They're just misguided."

"Right. Probably wouldn't recognize a real vampire if it bit them on the neck." Buffy wiggled in her seat, making his fangs itch. "But no, don't sense a damn thing." He took a long swallow of his beer and desperately tried not to think about the spot on her thigh that he’d sunk his fangs into.

"Me either." She looked to where the dance floor had several couples on it, then back at him. She repeated the gesture several more times while he continued to sip his beer. Her lower lip started to creep out into a pout.

"Fine, fine," he said, giving in. "Finish your drink." He let the rest of the bottle of beer wash down his throat while she gulped her wine. He moved around the table and grabbed her wrist. "Let's dance," he said with a grin, tugging her towards the other couples.

****

Angel had come to The Sunset Club to make sure it was harmless. So far he'd seen nothing but pitiful humans. He leaned against the railing of the top level, watching the fools talk and drink. He was trying to distract himself, prevent himself from going to stand watch over Buffy's window. Did she know about this place? He almost wished it was a front for a nest of vampires. It'd be an excuse to talk to her, important information she'd thank him for.

The music in the club was loud and obnoxious. All the couples groping at each other like mindless animals disgusted him. A flash of bright blond hair from the dance floor caught his eye.

Was that Spike?

Angel moved so he could get a better look. Some curly-haired blonde was wiggling in a too tight dress right in front of him. Was the jerk daring to hunt here, of all places? Wait till Buffy heard about this. Spike grabbed the woman, sliding his hand down to cup her backside and pull her against him. Angel’s face lit up. This was even better. Buffy would be livid. Angel imagined her staking the lying asshole and how much she'd need a shoulder to cry on afterwards. The slattern Spike was fondling turned, lifting her arms to wrap around his neck and grinding her rear-end against his crotch. "Slu-" Angel started to say, then nearly choked as he got a good look at the woman's face.

What the hell had Buffy done to her hair? He watched in disbelief as they gyrated together. Buffy tilted her head to the side and Spike nuzzled against her neck. Angel groaned when he realized what the other vamp was doing. Spike had grabbed the little strip of fabric around Buffy's neck with his teeth and was tugging at it while continuing to rub against her, one hand making circles low down on her belly. Angel forced his hands to release the railing and his eyes to leave the couple. He stormed out the exit, letting the door slam behind him. There was no one in the alley and Angel allowed his demon to have free rein. He bellowed his frustration, punching a dent in a dumpster. He picked up a case of empty bottles, hurling it into the brick wall, the glass inside shattering and raining out in shards.

His girl was a whore. Spike had made her a whore. She was sixteen, she deserved so much more than to be groped by William the Bloody in public. He roared, anger and jealousy seething inside him. Why didn't Buffy love him? He was good, he had a soul. He'd give anything just to hold her again, taste her lips. Spike had to go.

Angel leaned one hand against the dirty bricks. He wanted to murder Spike. Shove a stake in his chest and watch his dust blow away, but that was too good for the upstart bastard. And Buffy had lessons she had to learn. There had to be a way to yank them apart. Spike needed to know he’d never be good enough for a girl like Buffy and the Slayer needed to understand that she was demeaning herself. She needed to remember she was the Chosen One and that Angel had been sent to help her. He needed a plan. If Spike dumped her on her ass she’d return to him, but Angel couldn't be the one to make Spike leave or Buffy wouldn't turn to him in her sorrow. That left Drusilla. He was going to have to talk to her about that idea of hers.

Striding down the alley, still in his demon face, he came across a pack of fledglings that shied away from him.

"Easy pickings in the club back there boys.” Angel jerked his thumb back over his shoulder. “Jimmy open the door that's at the dead end. It's the only way in or out. Fish in a barrel."

They'd be easy enough for Buffy to deal with. It'd get her off of Spike and should keep both of them busy while he talked to Dru.

"Thanks dude!" The pack advanced towards the faint sounds of music.

****

Buffy was letting Spike maneuver her towards a dark corner, presumably to have his wicked way with her. At the moment she would be okay with just a sort of dark corner, or maybe one with a little shade, or the middle of the dancefloor. She wasn’t feeling very picky. His hands were everywhere and she couldn’t get close enough to him.

 Both their eyes popped open when the screaming from the upper level started. Something was seriously wrong.

"What the hell?" she said, trying to get a glimpse of what was going on.

Spike ran a hand through his hair. “Bugger.”

Several dark shapes vaulted over the railing, landing snarling among the terrified club goers. Buffy's Slayer senses went wild.

"Vampires," Spike whispered. She turned a questioning look at him. "We’re not acquainted. They look feral."

"Don't they know I'm busy," she grumbled, picking up a wooden chair and snapping off two of the legs. Tossing one to Spike, she headed for the nearest vamp. As he reached for a cowering girl, Buffy grabbed the back of his grubby Venice Beach shirt and tossed him towards the middle of the room. He landed in a heap, the Slayer right behind him. She hauled him upright, an iron grip on his collar.

"Hey, dickheads!" she yelled. "You picked the wrong damn place to do this!" The vamp in her grasp wriggled around so his yellow eyes were on her.

From the stairs she heard laughter. "Little girl! What do you plan to do? You'll make a tasty snack!"

The vampire she was holding snapped its fangs at her.

"Have a seat," Buffy calmly told it, then whipped her arm around with the make-shift stake and dusted the vamp. The club grew silent. Then rest of the pack jumped over the rails, surrounding her. She counted six. The one she assumed was the leader sauntered down the stairs, making seven. He looked like the stereotypical California surfer dude if you didn't take into account the demon face. She raised an eyebrow at him. "I bet you used to be real tan."

"Who are you?" Surfer growled.

"Oi, mate, you stupid or something?" Spike had circled around the back of the other vampires, coming to stand next to the leader.

"What?" Surfer looked confused. "Who are you?"

"Just full of questions aren't you? Well, let me let you in on a little secret. That there's the Slayer. And you, my friend, are fucked."

Spike gave him a push, making the larger vamp stagger. When he'd regained his footing Surfer aimed a clumsy punch at the bleached blond, which Spike easily avoided.

"I'm going to kill you, and them I'm going to kill her." Surfer lunged at Spike again, who dodged just out of reach.

"You, bag a Slayer? Don't think so, mate." Spike’s eyes were burning. He shook off his human mask and snarled at Surfer, meeting the next attack head-on with a series of vicious punches that ended with a boot to the knee that made the larger vamp crash to the floor. He put a foot square on Surfer's back.

"Who are you?" the prone vampire asked again. Spike leaned over, putting one hand on Surfer's chin.

"I'm the one that loves her," he growled so only his victim and Buffy could hear. Then he twisted and yanked, tearing the vamp's head from its shoulders. He tossed it to the Slayer's feet, where it disintegrated into dust. Buffy's chest was heaving, her lips parted. She wanted nothing more than to tackle him at that moment and rip his clothes off. He loved her. His eyes were wide, having realized what he’d inadvertently let slip. “I sort of imagined that with more candles involved.”

“It was perfect,” she whispered.

Pandemonium erupted around them.

Buffy whirled, knocking back a vamp that’d been closing in on her. Spike loved her. An open palm strike to the nose sent another vampire reeling backwards to trip over a chair. She was achingly in love, giddy with it. She looked for him and found her guy smashing another one of the pack member’s head repeatedly into the floor. Feeling her gaze, he looked up at her and smirked when he saw her expression. His tongue curled up behind his teeth and her pussy pulsated in response.

A cry for help had her turning back around and launching herself towards a vamp that was trying to bite the guy in a cape that'd talked to Spike earlier. She tapped him on the shoulder with her chair leg. "Hey, why don't you pick on someone not your own size?" Abandoning his prey the vamp lunged for her, only to be batted aside. A roundhouse kick sent him crashing over the top of the bar. Buffy bent down, looking the frightened man in the eyes.

"Can you start getting people out of here? We'll try to keep these guys busy."

"W-w-ho are you?" the man stammered.

"I'm the Slayer," she said.

"The guy you're here with, he's a… a…he's a vampire?"

"Yeah, long story."

The man laughed. "He said I should talk to you, because…because, you're the vampire lover."

"Yup, that's my boyfriend, all with the funny." The guy was starting to look a little hysterical. "Now move." Buffy helped pull him to his feet and gave him a little push to get going.

Spike was dusting a second vamp when she looked, damn, now she was behind.

"I've heard of the Slayer," rasped a voice from her left.

"I'm flattered."

"You're dead." The vampire started circling her. Buffy thought he looked like he might have been around a little longer than the others, she'd have to be more careful with this one.

"I think we'll just have to agree to disagree on that point. Would you like to fight or just talk some more?" She put her hand on her hips, looking bored. The vampire flew at her, leading with a left hook.

****

Spike paused for a moment, watching her brawl. Christ, this fight needed to hurry up and be over, because that dress needed to be off. The humans were starting to figure out that they could get to the door. Picking up another chair he bashed it over the head of a vampire who'd latched onto a sobbing girl's arm. The creature let her go and the girl wisely took off running. Spike grabbed a piece of the now shattered chair and dusted the dazed vamp.

Buffy was still fighting with the more experienced vampire. The others in the pack must have taken off, running out with the humans. Spike rabbited up the stairs, scanning left and right, but the club was empty. He shut the door, put the chain on it, and sauntered back down to watch the show.

 Not that it was any great hardship. His girl high kicked the moron she was fighting and Spike could see all her goodies. No hardship at all.

Well, he adjusted himself in his jeans, some things were hard.

****

It was getting frustrating; she just couldn't get the upper hand with this idiot. Her stake had been knocked out of her hand and she'd taken a few hard punches. She saw Spike standing, arms crossed, watching her. Her opponent tried to throw her, but she dodged at the last minute and instead the vamp grabbed nothing but air and she was able to send him crashing into a table.

Looking back at Spike, her eyes widened as he slid one hand down over his abdomen, hooked his thumb into a belt loop and used his fingers it to frame the bulge in his jeans. Okay, time for this annoying fight to be done. Her opponent was advancing on her again. She backed up, looking for something to use as a stake. Lying on the bar she spotted one of those wooden things used to smash cocktail ingredients. It wasn't really sharp, but it would do. Continuing to move back she palmed it when her hand passed over the glass it had been left in.

The vampire she was fighting slobbered and snarled, eyes wild. It must have realized it was alone. Buffy pretended to trip, landing heavily against the wall. The vamp was on her in a second, fangs heading for her neck. "You really ought to lay off the booze, it can kill you." She slammed the muddler–hey! she remembered!–into the thing's chest. It staggered back, hands clutching at the object, screaming. Then it laughed.

"You missed."

"Not so much." Buffy launched a kick, landing it over the end of the muddler that was still sticking out. The vampire collapsed into dust. She turned towards Spike.

"We clear?" she asked.

His fly was already undone, and as she watched he drew his t-shirt over his head. "We're clear. Dress off, now." She stopped walking towards him and grabbed the hem, pulling the fabric off in one smooth motion and dropping it to the floor. She was left standing in nothing but her high heels. Spike was prowling towards her, barefoot with his jeans riding low on his hips. Dimly she was aware that she should be doing something like checking for survivors, or chasing after the escaped vamps. But the heat rolling through her was eclipsing everything else.

"Can you hear it?" Buffy asked once he was standing in front of her. He reached his hand out, putting his palm over her wildly beating heart.

"Like thunder," he said gruffly. His cold hand trailed slowly up her neck, pausing briefly over her pulse, then gripped the hair at her nape. Roughly he pulled her against him and smashed his mouth against hers. Her hands clutched his shoulders, fingernails digging in. His other hand palmed her ass, tugging her until she brought first one leg and then the other to cinch around his waist.

Buffy broke the kiss. "Need you, now, so bad-" Her voice was an urgent, breathy moan. Kicking a table out of the way, Spike slammed her up against the wall.

"Going to fuck you now, Bess, all the rest of the niceties in a minute." Spike pushed his jeans down far enough to get his cock out, then rammed it up into her. He pinned her hard against the wall with his hands, yanked his hips down till he was nearly out of her, then surging back up to the hilt. The inner muscles of her cunt were strangling him with each thrust, her heels digging into his back. She was so hot, and wet, and alive. "Buffy, god, Buffy," her name was a prayer on his lips. With a yell, she came, her legs convulsing around him, her nails raking bloody trails on his arms and her pussy spasming in crushing pulses.  Continuing to slam his dick into her he couldn't stop himself: "Buffy, oh god, I love you so much. Bess, I love you, I love you. I love you!" He roared inarticulately as he peaked, pushing his cock as deep inside her as he could. Buffy gasped, her hips circling, her own cries mixing with his as she came again.

Spike kept her pinned against the wall, his face smashed into her shoulder. Buffy petted his back while she tried to get her breath back. Her vampire shifted, his shoulders shaking, wetness rolled down her chest. He was crying.

"Spike!" She grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at her. Tears washed down his cheeks. "What's wrong? Let me down." She unhooked her legs and he instantly let her go.

He stood for a moment, looking at the floor beside her. "I mean it, it's the bloody truth." His hands went to his hair, yanking it out of its usual order. He pulled his jeans up and turned away from her, moving to stand next to the bar. Reaching over it he grabbed a bottle of tequila that was sitting there and yanked the stopper out of it. She watched him take one long pull before she got fed up and knocked it out of his hands with enough force to send it across the room to shatter against the far wall.

"Bitch," he grated out.

"Ass!" she yelled at him. "You don't get to tell me you love me and then run away."

"You don't-"  

Buffy grabbed his arm. "Do not start with the 'you don't understand' bullshit, Spike. You’re gearing up for me to freak-out and reject you. What I don’t understand is why.”

“Because,” he ground out. “I’m not the right guy.”

“What?”

He braced his hands on the bar. “I’m not the ‘right’ Spike.”

Oh, god. Her face fell. "Spike, I-" His hand clamped over her mouth.

"Don't say it!" he howled. "It’s not for me. You love whoever I am in your memory. The…man who got a soul shoved up his ass for you. The one who died for you.”

“You, you…jerk! You’re, what? So jealous of _yourself_ that you refuse to even consider I might know my own mind?”

He flinched.

“I love you, Spike. Right here, right now. Is it confusing? Yes. Am I glad that some part of the Spike I knew came back with me? Yes. And you should be too.”

“Why, exactly, should I be thrilled about that?” He rubbed a hand over his chest. She hoped the spark was giving him hell.

“Because without it you would have drained me at the school and never looked back.”

Spike’s eyes closed. She knew he couldn’t deny it. Slowly, she walked towards him and slid her arms around him, hugging him from behind. Buffy could never understand how someone who felt so solid and strong could shatter so easily. She wanted to go back much further in time and find the idiot girl, she couldn’t recall her name, that’d broken the man he’d been. Find her and rip her lungs out through her throat.

Though if she really wanted to punish someone that’d hurt Spike she didn’t need to look any further than a mirror.  She pushed herself away from him and grabbed a glass, smashing it on the ground and picking up a large shard. Crouching on the dirty floor, naked, she shakily held the sharp point up to her own throat. With her other hand she tore the choker off her neck, letting it fall from lax fingers.

“Buffy!” It was a tormented cry. She was ashamed of being its cause. Spike fell to his knees in front of her, his anguished blue eyes searching her face as his hands clenched helplessly.

Blood dripped unheeded down her wrist and forearm from where the glass had cut it. Buffy stared at the man in front of her. Where she would go, even as a suicide, he couldn’t follow. There’d be no peace in the dark, not for her, not anymore. She whipped her hand to the side and the piece of glass tumbled end over end to splinter into fragments against the far wall.

Spike’s hands were on her in the next moment, pulling her to her feet and crushing her against his chest. She brought her cut hand up and he turned his face into it, running his tongue over the injuries.

“Spike?” she said tentatively.

His eyes returned to hers.

Her voice was tiny. “I don’t want to die.” 

He exhaled noisily. “Good.”

“I just…I want to love you. Please, Spike, please. Let me love you.”  He was searching her face, maybe checking to see if her words were the truth. Her gaze never waved as she willed him to see that she was his.

“God, Bess, I love you.” His voice was rough. His head dropped forward and he kissed her shoulder. "You shine so bright with goodness it's almost blinding to a monster like me." Her breath hitched, but he moved his hand in circles on her back to soothe her. "You don't need to defend me from myself, I know what I am, but you make me feel like more. You make me want to be more. And you Buffy…" he trailed a finger up and down her spine, sending sparks shooting under her skin. "Do you know how badly I want your love?" He moved behind her, both hands running down her sides and over her hips before pulling her up against him so he could fondle her breasts. His fingers twisted and pulled at her nipples until they jutted out from her chest and she was wiggling against him, moaning and mewling. Nipping at her ear to make sure he had her attention, he whispered: “I’ll let you if you’ll let me."

"Huh?" It was hard to think with his hands on her.

Spike chuckled and ground his erection against her ass. "I’ll let you love me if you’ll let me love you."

"Yes, a thousand times yes. Oh, god-" His hands had left her chest and he pushed her hard against the bar with one hand on the middle of her back. The other dipped between her legs, seeking her clit. He rubbed it in rough circles. Keeping his fingers working there he pushed his thumb into her pussy, circling it in her moisture. "Spike, please," she groaned.

"Not yet." His fingers rubbed faster and her inner muscles grabbed at his thumb, trying to draw him further in.

Buffy braced her hands on the stained wood of the bar, rocking herself against his hand. “Please, I need you. Please.”

"Well, since you beg so prettily." He removed his hand from her, and she started to spread her legs, but he stopped her, pushing them back together. Slowly he worked his cock inside her tight channel. He ran a hand up her spine and braced it between her shoulder blades. She couldn’t move. Now fully lodged inside her he worked his free hand between their bodies to run his thumb around were they were connected. She mewed and tried to push back against him but had no leverage to do so. Sighing she simply let herself enjoy the feeling of being full of him.

 He tugged his shaft out slightly, swiping up her juices, then he splayed his fingers across her ass and gently caressed the tender skin of her bud. Buffy's eyes fluttered closed, and she took a deep breath to relax for him. "Who'd have thought?” He muttered and sunk his thumb in as far as he could reach. She moaned, wiggling her hips in a silent plea for him to move.

He fucked her with short, sharp strokes that made her gasp, his sack slapping against her with each thrust. Spike had a hand on her hip, jerking her back against him in time with his pounding. Fireworks erupted behind her eyelids and her breath left her in a grunt. When she stopped convulsing he slowly withdrew his thumb and grasped her other hip, his actions becoming more frantic. Buffy looked at him over shoulder.  "Tell me!" she ordered. "Say it!"

"I love you" Spike gasped. "I love you, I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyou-" He roared and slammed one more time into her, flooding her with cum. After several long minutes he managed to pry his fingers off her hips and step back, sliding out of her. Buffy turned around and was clinging to him almost instantly. She kissed his chest, his neck, his eyelids and then swept her tongue into his mouth. Her nipples rubbed against his chest, and her hands kneaded his ass. His cock was already hard again, a hard line trapped between their bodies.

"What the hell do you do to me woman?" he growled against her lips. She didn't answer, just bit his tongue. Spike snarled, shifting into his demon face. He picked her up so she was sitting on the bar, his hips nestled between her thighs.

****

Angel had gotten most of the way to the factory before his conscience had caught up with him. He'd panicked and did an about face, charging back the way he'd come. He'd been so angry at Buffy, and at Spike, but it wasn't just them in that club. He'd sicced a pack of young, feral vampires on a group of helpless mortals. What had he done? When he'd gotten back to The Sunset Club there was the faint smell of blood in the alley, but no bodies. No one answered the door when he knocked.

He had to get in, his guilt was eating him alive. What if there had been more to the group than he realized? What if Buffy lay dead or dying? The peep hole window in the door was open a crack, allowing him to work his fingers in and wrench it the rest of the way open. By holding himself up with one hand he was able to work the other arm through up to the shoulder. His fingers just brushed the chain and latch. With a growl he swung his body and dislocated his shoulder with a pop. It was enough, and the door swung open. Angel dropped back to the ground. Jerking his shoulder back into its socket forced the demon to his face. He stalked into the club interior, yellow eyes scanning left and right.

Blood had been spilled, but not much. That was a relief. The ashy smell of dusted vampires was also there, indicating the Slayer had managed to get most, or all, of the pack. Good for her. He prowled to the railing he'd stood at earlier, and caught another scent. Oh God, not again…what the hell were they doing? Angel, keeping low, slipped along the railing until he had a good view of the bar.

They were both buck naked, Buffy was sitting on the bar, leaning back with her hands gripping the edge. One leg was over Spike's shoulder and the other was up and out, her high heeled shoe hooked into an empty glass rack. Sweat rolled down her breasts as Spike moved unhurriedly in and out of her. Angel stood up, leaning over the rail. He nearly fell when he realized that Spike's cock was not in her cunt. His fingers were though, three of them fucking her in unison with his thrusts into her ass. The thumb and little finger were holding her labia open wide. The other hand was rolling and pinching her nub. Both of them had their eyes locked on what they were doing, and Angel would swear they were even breathing in unison.

Part of Angel wanted to run down there, yell at them, make them stop. His beautiful Slayer was letting herself be defiled by creature with no soul. It was filthy and it was hot. Angel's prick was standing up to attention, straining against his pants. He rubbed one hand over it through the fabric. He deserved to watch his dreams die, to see the girl he wanted be sullied by someone else. It had been a bad thing he'd done, sending those vampires into the club, and now he was being punished.

Below him Buffy was moaning louder, levering herself on her arms to push her hips harder against her lover. Angel pressed down on his cock. He heard Spike say something to her, her reply coming out in gasps. "I love you…harder…oh yes! Spike! I love you, I love you!" She shuddered, coming apart, the edge of the bar splintering under her grasp.

Angel gasped at her words. She couldn't, she didn't. Angel knew in that moment that he must be paying for more than the sins of that night. Tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks. He didn't brush them away, keeping one hand on the rail and the other massaging his hard-on.

Spike's body tensed, his movements becoming less rhythmic. Angel could clearly hear Buffy’s slightly hoarse voice: "That's it, I can take it all. Now say it, tell me. Now!"

The blond vampire's voice was rough: "I love you, I love you, I love YOU!" The last was a shout as Spike threw his head back and came. Angel had to jump back to keep from being seen. Buffy he could understand, she was young and impressionable. But Spike? Spike loved Drusilla and had done so forever. It was one of those immutable things, like taxes or the speed of light. This couldn't be real. Dru, she'd know, she'd know that Spike was just stringing Buffy along and waiting for the right time to devastate her.

For the second time that night Angel headed for the factory, feeling guilty for a different reason. He should have staked Spike the instant he found out his Grandchilde was in town. The discomfort from his unrelieved arousal served to underline his inner turmoil. It was his, Angel's, fault that Buffy had descended to the level of rutting like a bitch in heat with that disgusting monster. He'd fix this, he'd make it right. It's what Buffy deserved. What she needed.


	26. Scent

Seems like a dream

            -Fleetwood Mac, “Hypnotized”

****

Drusilla’s hips swayed to the music that came from somewhere she’d never been able to pin down. It just was. Angel’s eyes were dark and hooded. Daddy was angry at so many, many things. The sunlight, her, dolphins, Spike, Darla, the Protestant Reformation, himself, fast food containers on the side of the highway...

“Dru,” he said from behind her. She whipped back around and smiled. “So let me get this straight.” His words were a nasty black growl. She bared her teeth and growled back. Silly doggie, did he forget she could bite too? Angel sighed. “We do the ritual from the book, you get better, and then Spike…what, comes running home?”

“Everyone ends up right where they need to be.” She wove her way through spider’s webs that hung in the air until she was standing before the other vampire. Walking her fingers up his chest, she giggled as he flinched away from her. Where did he think he could run to?

“Can we do this ritual soon? Tonight?”

Drusilla leaned her head back and watched the stars wheel through the sky. “Not yet, the time’s not right.” Her fingers found his lips and brushed softly across them. “Don’t worry, Daddy, your little girl is going to make everything all better.”

****

The door to Angel's apartment creaked open a crack and he looked out warily. Spotting her, he tossed the door open wide while spinning to stalk to a chair and grabbing a short robe that matched the silky pants he was wearing. He didn't look at her as he shrugged it on. Buffy lingered in the doorway.

"Ah- Hi, Angel. Do you mind if I come in?" This was turning into a whole party of uncomfortable for her.

The vampire shot back across to her, bending down to peer into her eyes. "Why do you need to ask?" he thundered. She pushed past him, walking into the small apartment. The door slammed closed behind her. Buffy’s nose twitched, the smell was off in here, it was a scent she felt she should be able to place. Angel himself looked rough. There were shadows under his eyes and his skin was paler than normal, his face more drawn.

Buffy frowned at him. "To be polite?" Lines appeared on his forehead. Why would Angel be worried about how she was with social mores? "Oh." She got it. "Still with the pulser club, if that's what you're worried about. " She pointed to her chest. "Can't you hear it?" Angel cocked his head to the side, concentrating. The he nodded, avoiding her gaze. "Also, it's like two o'clock in the afternoon, not exactly prime vampire social hour." He nodded again. It bothered her to realize that he was afraid Spike would turn her.

The smell was really starting to wig her out. It was familiar, sort of like that of a newly dusted vampire, or when Spike couldn't wait and showed up nearly on fire at her house. She spotted a cross lying on the table. Burnt vampire scent and a cross. Oh, Angel, no.

"Angel, what have you been doing?" Her voice was very low, but she knew he heard her. He crossed his arms over his chest, holding the material of the robe tightly closed. Buffy strode towards him and he flinched back, but in the small apartment there was nowhere for him to escape to. She grabbed his wrists, using her Slayer strength to fling his arms wide, and tore open the robe to expose his torso. Charred black cross-shaped burns covered his chest. One was particularly deep and angry looking over his left pectoral muscle. After a tense minute he pulled back, jerking the robe out of her hands and tying it closed again. "What the hell?" she breathed, shocked.

"It's-"

"If you say it's nothing I will stake you, you idiot. It's obviously not nothing!"

“I did something…wrong, that I don’t want to talk about. I’m just paying the price.”

“Okay, fine. I have no idea what you could’ve possibly done to feel like you need to punish yourself like this, but believe me when I say I understand the emotion.” Buffy scowled, she understood it very well.

Whatever Angel was thinking or feeling, his face betrayed none of it. “Why did you come here?”

“I need your help.” For a second she considered telling him all of it. Her lips even parted to do so, but the image of his back, walking away from her as her world came apart and rained in broken pieces around her, made the words catch in her throat. Instead she sighed. “A demon, like a literal one, from Giles’ past is trying to catch up with him. I had a Slayer dream and we need to be waiting outside the Library door so we can intercept it before it kills anyone else.”

A tiny spark of hope flared in Angel’s eyes. “And where do I come in?”

“The demon has to have a host body. If it’s threatened it jumps to the nearest unconscious or dead body.”

“And I’m a dead body,” he said flatly.

She nodded. “Only you already have a demon, one that’s just itching for a fight.”

Angel pursed his lips, walking away from her to sit on the couch. “Why don’t you get your boyfriend to do it?” He crossed his legs, one knee jiggling up and down with tension. “I can smell him on you, Buffy.”

“It’s not my fault you have a nose like a bloodhound. I even showered before I came over.” She threw her hands up and plunked down on one of the hard backed chairs at the table. “Look, I just think you’re the right guy for the job.”

Angel quickly crossed the room, dropping to kneel at her feet. He rested one hand on her knee. “I’ll help you. You know I will. It’s the soul, isn’t it? You need the soul as well as the demon.”

“Please don’t read too much into this. You’re simply the person that I think is right to help us out in this case.”

The vampire leaned towards her, his brown eyes big and pleading. “It is the soul, it makes-“

“Spike has his soul.” The instant the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. Of all the people that didn’t need know, Angel pretty much topped the list. He’d just been touching her, making her uncomfortable while looking at her with those stupid eyes. She’d wanted to shut him up.

“What?” It was barely a whisper.

“You heard me.” Buffy pushed her chair back and stood up, walking towards the kitchen.

“How? When?” Angel was on his feet now.

“It’s a long story.” She turned around just in time to see his eyes dart towards the cross lying on the table. Buffy lunged and picked it up. “I didn’t pry about why you needed to mortify your own flesh, I don’t want you to ask for any more details. Okay?”

“No, not acceptable. Buffy, can’t you see what he’s doing? He’s lying to you, saying he has one so you’ll…”

“So I’ll what?” Her hand tightened around the cross. Angel’s mouth worked but he obviously couldn’t find a way to end that sentence that wasn’t going to tick her off more than she already was. “I’m not stupid. He didn’t just tell me and I opened my thighs for him.” She shook her head. “You really don’t think much of me, do you?”

“No, Buffy, that’s not it.” He was standing, head bowed, hands twisted into the fabric of his pants.

“Actions speak louder than words.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Have a snack, lay down, and get some rest. Then tonight, come with me to the school and be the hero that I know you can be.”  She looked down at the cross she was holding. “Maybe I better stay, I’m not real sure you should be alone.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“No, I really don’t, but can you guarantee you’re not going to hurt yourself if I leave?”

He didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought.” She nabbed a blood bag out of the fridge, dumped it in a cup, and heated it up for him. He took it without a word and swallowed it down before handing the cup back. She rinsed it out and herded him off to the bed.

Sinking down on the couch she watched _Groundhog Day_ with the sound off until she was reasonable certain Angel was actually asleep. Then she called her Watcher.

“Giles?”

“Buffy, is that you?”

“Yeah, I’m still at Angel’s. He’s not having a good day so I’m going to stay here until nightfall.”

“I’m taking it he agreed to help.”

“Yes.” She kicked her shoes off and tucked her feet under her on the couch.

“Excellent, I’ll see you immediately after sunset then?”

“We’ll be there, but wait, Giles, there’s something else I need to talk to you about.” Buffy took a deep breath. “Spike…”

“Has he done something?” Her watcher’s voice was sharp.

“What? No. Spike has his soul.”

“Dear lord. Are you sure?”

“Mostly. I think it followed me here, from my original time, but I was wondering if there was a way to see it? So both me and him know what’s going on with it.”

“I’d…I’d have to ask Jenny. That sounds more like her area of expertise.”

It was the answer Buffy had been expecting. From behind her Angel shifted on the bed.

“Thanks Giles. I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.”

She hung up the phone and returned to watching someone else live their life on repeat.

****

Joyce woke up as the front door opened and closed. She heard Buffy’s light tread on the stairs and relaxed. It was impossible for her not to worry about her daughter. Her twenty-three-year old, possibly suicidal, time traveling–there was a squeal as Buffy opened her bedroom window, followed by the thump of heavy boots landing on the floor–complete hormone bomb of a daughter. Joyce rolled over on her stomach and groaned, burying her face into her pillow. Did they actually think they were being sneaky?

“Christ, woman, you stink of him!”

“He was helping us, you moron.”

“While what? You rubbed all over him like a bleeding cat?”

“Ugh! I had to hold him up, for crying out loud. And we managed to intercept Eyghon outside the Library and save Giles’ friend and everything, thank you very much for asking.”

“I don’t know why I couldn’t have been the one to do it.”

“Because I love you and couldn’t stand the thought of risking you like that. I knew Angel would be okay and even if he ended up dust or possessed by Eyghon, it wouldn’t completely destroy me!”

There was a silence, during which time Joyce assured herself that they were contemplating world peace or maybe setting up for a game of checkers.

“I much rather smell like you,” her daughter moaned. “Can you do that, Spike?”

“Oh yeah, Bess, going to make you smell like me all over…”

That was it. Joyce reached over and flipped the clock radio next to her bed onto the easy listening channel. The sound of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Dreams’ filled up the room. That was better. A shag rug and some potted plants in macramé holders and it’d be just like the year she’d lived in the dorms.

Joyce drifted back to sleep, remembering how exciting the world had been back then and wondering what had happened that she’d ended up so old.

****

Buffy woke up from a deep sleep to Spike twitching and whimpering beside her. They were lying on their sides, facing each other. He had a heavy arm around her middle and one leg thrown over hers, protecting her even while he slept.

His brow furrowed and he took several quick breaths. She placed a hand over his unbeating heart. He was dreaming, his eyes moving rapidly back and forth under his lids. “Spike?” she whispered tentatively, not sure if she should wake him. He shuddered and vamped out, surprising her. She kissed his brow, attempting to soothe him. A growl rumbled through his chest and the demon face receded.

“Buffy,” he slurred. He shifted restlessly then barked her name again, louder.

That was it, he wasn’t having a good dream. She planted her hands on his shoulders and shook him lightly. “Spike,” she hissed. He snarled something garbled that ended with a near sob. She shook him harder. “Spike!” she growled in his ear.

His eyes snapped open, searching frantically until they landed on her. “Oh, god.” Spike tightened his arm around her, crushing her against him. “God, Buffy.” He was shaking.

“It was a dream, that’s all, just a dream. Tell me about it, that usually makes it better.”

“I don’t know if I should.” His voice was thick. Her face was tight against his throat and she couldn’t tell for sure, but it sounded like he was crying.

“You should. Unless it was some freaky sex dream about Drusilla, you can keep that crap to yourself.”

He managed a choked little laugh. “Right. I’ll remember that. I’ve had dreams like this before, ever since…when you told me about all the ways you tried to…”

“End things,” she said quietly.

“Yeah. I’d see them, in my dreams. At first I’d just be too late to save you.”

Buffy went really still.

“Then I started joining you, the world too empty without you in it. I never even stopped to question it, not even when I woke up.” Spike pressed his cheek hard against the top of her head.

Tears were sliding down her face and her hands clutched at him, needing to feel the bones and muscles real and solid under her fingertips.

“This time…” He stifled a sob. “This time you were all laid out on a hospital bed, wearing one of those ugly gowns. There were tubes and wires hooked up to you everywhere. You looked so thin and broken. Your mates were there with you, along with your Watcher and sodding Angel. I couldn’t see you well, the light was blindingly bright.”

Buffy’s stomach had dropped out of her. There was no way, he couldn’t have seen this.

“I climbed up on the bed, wanting to rip away all that horror, but I was too late. Your eyes were open and staring. Dead eyes. I was shaking you, yelling your name. Christ, Buffy. It was so real, so bloody real. There was a stake in my hand. I don’t know where from, it was in some kind of plastic bag. I ripped the bag open and…” There was soft crunch as his face shifted. “And you woke me up, right before...”

She could hardly breathe. It was the scene from when she’d been sent back. But he couldn’t know that. He hadn’t been there. It was just a dream, and she was reading her own interpretation into it, that was all. She had to believe that.

His fingers were digging into her. So often he’d been her anchor lately. Now it was her turn. “Spike, I…what can I do? I’m here, I’m here, not dead. I’m not going to leave you. I love you.”

“I love you too. And I need you, Bess.”

“Anything.”

With a muffled growl he rolled her over so she was on her other side before pulling her back against his chest. He spat in his palm and moved his hand down between their bodies. With a quick thrust of his hips he had his cock rammed all the way to the hilt inside her. She hadn’t been thinking about sex before a few seconds ago and wasn’t ready for him. The stretch was uncomfortable and she tried to pull away.

Spike’s hand on her lower belly stilled her as his fangs gently scratched at the nape of her neck. “Sorry, I’m sorry, luv,” he was whispering. “Fuck. The demon…I just need to be inside you. I need to feel you around me.”

With a deep breath she relaxed. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t trying to get off. The hand on her belly moved to grasp hers, bringing her own palm to rest against the area below her bellybutton. Spike shifted slightly behind her.

“I can feel you,” she gasped in wonder. “Inside me, I can feel you there.” Buffy pressed harder and he moved again, making her take another started inhalation.

“Shh,” he whispered against her neck. “I’ve got you, Spike’s got you.” Gently his fangs pierced her skin on either side of the little bump at the very base of her neck. His whole body sagged against the mattress, a motionless and concrete presence behind her. With a contented sigh her eyes slid shut. He was inside and all around her.

Everything would be alright.

****

The day had gone on forever.

Spike tensed as something akin to panic swirled through him. He had to get to his Bess. Coming to the factory had been a waste, he should have never left her house. He should have been far less worried about what her mum thought. Dru was fine and not particularly thrilled to see him. He’d spent the entire time pacing, smoking, and cursing the sun. Sleep hadn’t even been a remote possibility.

When the sun had finally set he’d taken off like a shot and now he was rushing through his errands. A new pack of Reds was in his pocket along with a bottle of Jack. If he hadn’t been starving he would have skipped going to the butcher’s altogether, but he’d left it too long as it was. He shifted his weight from foot to foot while he waited on his order, nearly tearing the paper bag out of the gruff man’s hands when the back door finally banged open.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, shoving a wad of cash at the bloke and leaving without waiting for his change. He flew around the corner and right into the chest of his Grandsire. Perfect, just what this day had been missing.

Angel grabbed him by the lapels of his duster and pushed him up against the wall.

“I’m seriously starting to think you have something against my coat,” Spike sniffed, trying to appear bored. The spark in his chest was straining to get to Buffy, impatient at the delay. His Grandsire was gazing at him steadily.

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

Buffy had filled him in on her slip up in telling Angel about the bloody soul. While Spike was not necessarily overjoyed about it being common knowledge, he couldn’t deny that there was a certain joy in dethroning Angel as the one vampire in all the world to have one. It was probably messing with Peaches’ head good and proper. Doubly so because it was Spike, and he’d gotten the girl to boot.

Spike grinned. “Of course it’s true, you ponce. You could have just asked.” Angel let him go and Spike made a show of straightening his jacket. He gave his Grandsire a speculative look. “Did you think I was trying to pull one over on the Slayer? To what end?” Angel wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Ah, right. It takes more than a soul to pry apart her dimpled knees, you berk. Do you really think that little of her?”

Angel’s jaw clenched. “Why does she want you?”

Spike shrugged. The spark gave him a warning shot, but he pushed it aside. Baiting Angel was worth the pain. “I ask myself the same thing frequently, usually when I’m balls deep in her and she’s screaming my name.”

With a not-so-subtle roar, Angel vamped out. Spike leaned against the wall and pulled his pack of Reds out. He tapped it hard against his hand and watched the other vampire struggle to get his demon under control. Spike had the smoke out and lit before Angel calmed down enough to get his human mask back in place. Speech still seemed to be escaping him however.

The spark was really starting to pull at Spike, wanting to go to her. Not that he was complaining, exactly. Spike tried to mollify it by a quick review of waking up that morning next to, and still inside, her. The fear in the aftermath of the nightmare had been placated and he’d been horny as hell. So he’d found her clit and started rubbing until she’d woken up with a started gasp followed by a yelp as she came. He’d rolled her over then, taking her hard, making her moan and thrash under him. They’d both gotten carried away, ignoring everything else until they’d collapsed in a boneless, sated heap.

He’d left her to go grab blood from the fridge, and had nearly jumped out of his skin when Joyce had snapped the kitchen lights on. At least he’d been dressed. She’d looked rather pleased with herself for scaring him, but it was her words that’d made his borrowed blood turn cold.

“You know, Spike, back in my day we’d put a couple of pillows between the headboard and the wall.”

He’d stammered something like an apology and fled from the kitchen like all the hounds in hell were after him. Kissing a slightly puzzled Buffy goodbye and promising he’d see her for patrol that night, he’d headed for the factory, telling himself he needed to make sure things there were going okay. Fat lot of good that’d done him.

Angel finally managed to find his voice. “William, we really need to talk, about Buffy.” The taller man held up his hands. “Not to fight about her, but if you do have a soul and truly love her, you need to listen to what I have to say.”

Spike frowned and the spark seemed to dither. “Okay, fine, but make it quick.”

Angel nodded. “Listen up, because this is important.”

****

Buffy was pacing back and forth amongst the tombstones, tension gnawing its way through every nerve. Where was he? Her skin felt too tight and she was far too hot. A drop of sweat ran down the curve of her spine. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to shower, but had the rueful feeling that the no-bathing along with the sweating she was doing was making her into a walking billboard that screamed ‘Spike’s Girl’ to anything in a three mile radius. She’d be lucky to see a single demon on patrol since there was zero way she would be sneaking up on anything with a nose. Including anything human. She could smell herself, for crying out loud.

After several more turns the familiar tingles of her vampire washed across her back. It was about time. He jumped to the roof of a mausoleum a few rows over, his head swiveling left and right as he searched for her. Buffy stood still, a gazelle being tracked by a lion. The instant he pin-pointed her location he was in motion, jumping from roof to roof until he landed with a thump in front of her.

“Spike?” she whispered. He really didn’t look okay. Emotions chased each other in quick succession across his face.

He took a step closer and his nostrils flared. His human mask melted away and his wild amber eyes fixed on her. The steady thump of her heartrate accelerated.

Even though she’d been expecting it, she was still surprised when he darted the last few feet between them, grabbed her, and pinned her up against the marble wall of a crypt. His face was buried against her neck. “You didn’t shower,” he rumbled.

“No, um, sorry. It’s kind of warmer than I thought it’d be out here and I’m sort of sweaty and icky. I really should have, I must stink to-” Spike’s hand clamped over her mouth.

“You’re my girl, right Bess?”

She nodded.

He inhaled deeply, hovering over the skin of her neck. Taking his hand off her mouth he shredded the front of her shirt. With a gentle movement he urged her to raise both her arms over her head.

“Um, I wasn’t kidding about the being gross thing.”

His amber eyes narrowed and he growled softly at her. Shrugging, she leaned back against the cool marble. Something had seriously wigged him out and she’d do whatever he needed in order to help him feel better, even if she found it completely weird.

Spike sniffed his way down from her neck to the valley between her breasts. He cupped one in his hand, squeezing gently and blowing on the nipple so it pebbled before he lifted it up and stuck his face into the crease under it, inhaling deeply.

She bit her lip, embarrassed beyond all get out.

Abandoning her breast, Spike dropped to his knees in front of her. He pulled the front of her skirt up and tucked it in her waist band. He pushed her thighs a little apart before grabbing onto both her hips. Closing his eyes he leaned forward, nuzzling his face into the lilac cotton of her panties. He went still, except for the breath that was tickling her skin.

Reverently, she brought one hand to rest on the top of his head. Buffy was still flushed with embarrassment. Somehow it was all more intimate than sex because there was no hurry, no selfish need to get off. She’d never known Spike to be like this, not before, not during that terrible year after her resurrection.

Her stomach dropped. She didn’t know that, did she? Over and over again she’d run from him, had never given him a chance to show her how he loved. She was the one that was different now, not him. It would have been her that never, in a million years, would have allowed him to bury his own pain by simply being with her. She trembled and his fingers bit into her hips. There was another muffled growl and the faintest hint of fang pushing against her. She got the message: be still.

And as odd as it might be, in the dark and the quiet of a graveyard, on a too warm fall evening, with a demon pressed up against her so he could breathe her in, she had never felt more content. Slowly, Buffy let herself relax. This was something she could learn how to do. Not just give love, but let her walls down and allow herself, in return, to be loved.


	27. Mirror, Mirror

“It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person”

       -Lewis Carroll,  _Alice in Wonderland_

****

Buffy rolled the window of the DeSoto down, enjoying the feel of the night air rushing through her hair. The radio was on, but the volume was too low for her to tell what was playing over the sound of the wind. Spike was humming along with it though, long fingers tapping on the steering wheel. She’d needed a night off and the vampire had asked if he could take her somewhere. She’d readily agreed, never having gone further than across town in the black monstrosity of his car before.

When he’d come to pick her up he’d honked the horn instead of coming to the door. Buffy could swear he was avoiding her mother like the plague. There was a story there, somewhere.

The car slowed as Spike turned off the main highway. The road they took became increasingly desolate. A solid ten minutes passed without them seeing another set of headlights. Buffy turned to him: "You do know I'm not a virgin, right?"

"I'm well aware." He smirked at her. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Just that whatever demon you're hauling me out to Timbuktu as a sacrifice for, they probably prefer virgins."

“Is this the Slayer version of 'are we there yet’?”

"Probably."

“We’re close, just hang on a tick.”

Another ten minutes and they rolled into a parking lot with more potholes and cracks than asphalt. Brown weeds had sprouted and died from every place they could. A boarded up and decayed building sat slowly moldering among a flock of dead hedges. Spike pulled up to the very front and killed the engine. A sign over what used to be the front door read: "W_d_rla_d H_tel."

"Are you the white rabbit I'm supposed to follow?" she joked.

He rolled his eyes at her and pulled a smoke out of his pockets. Buffy had lost count of how many he’d gone through since leaving Sunnydale. Her vampire was nervous about something. "Let me go make sure everything's safe," he said, getting out of the car before lighting the cigarette. He took a drag and slowly let it out while he walked out of sight around the side of the building.

"Safe?" Buffy grumbled. "I'm the Slayer, that doesn't even make sense.” She knew a lame excuse when she heard one. She leaned her head out the window, looking at the dilapidated sign. “Curiouser and curiouser,” she sighed to herself.

It was ten minutes before he returned, beckoning her to follow him.

"This is creepy," she said, walking next to him as they skirted the outside of the old hotel. "Do you have some kind of Shining fetish that I don't know about?"

He just snorted and led her through a side door that looked as if had been ripped off its hinges then poorly repaired. It was dark inside. Spike took her hand to lead her around the lumps of what had once been furniture. They went down an even darker hallway and stopped in front of a door she could barely make out in the gloom.

"I’ve had a lot to think about recently." He shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot.

"Uh, Spike, what’s going on?" Buffy was worried, she should have insisted they just go to the movies.

"We need to talk and I wanted to do it without interruptions. I remembered this place and figured I'd bring you here. I went to some trouble to neaten the place up, so you’d better bloody appreciate it." He swung the door open and her eyes were dazzled with light.

She walked into the room and gasped. There were only a few candles scattered around, but the flames were reflected a hundred times over. Mirror after mirror lined the walls. Some were resting on the floor, probably having been brought in from other rooms. There were even two on the ceiling. There was no furniture or carpet, just a bare wood floor. Buffy could see herself reflected ad infinitum. Turning, she ran into the solid wall of Spike's chest. _Right, no reflection_. Which made everything even stranger.

"What's all this about?" she asked in a tight, worried voice.

Spike's arms came up around her and he hugged her briefly before grasping her shoulders and turning her to face away from him. He ran his hands lightly down her sides to her hips, then pulled her tight against him and slid his arms across her chest and stomach to hold her.

"Look," he breathed in her ear. She opened her eyes. All she saw was herself. "What do you see?"

"Me," she said after a moment. Was it a trick question?

"You," he agreed. "And what about me?" His arms tightened a hairsbreadth more around her.

"Spike, I feel like I'm being set up. But, no I can't see you, you don't have a reflection."

"That's the point." He buried his face into her shoulder.

Buffy attempted to piece it together, what was he trying to tell her? She looked at herself again in the mirror. She was standing alone, blackness hovering just outside the candlelight.

"Spike, you better explain what it is you want me to see, because all I see is myself, alone with the darkness waiting around the edges." She swallowed, her mouth having gone dry.

"Shall I tell you what I see, then?"

"Please." Buffy's hands clutched at the leather of his sleeves, desperate to find an anchor.

"I see a woman who's whole unto herself, beautiful and strong." He let go of her, stepping back. "She needs no one to hold her up, no one to fight her battles for her. She is perfect."

Buffy twisted her fingers into the fabric of her skirt. "You see a hell of a lot more than I do. And what about you?"

"I'm not there, I'm not real."

Buffy's insides lurched. _Not real_. What was going on? She was starting to find it hard to breathe.

"You don't need me Buffy." He was looking at the floor now, not her.

Fury erupted inside her. It burned red hot. "No, I don't need you," she spat. A muscle quivered in his cheek, but he nodded, taking another step back from her. She realized he’d been expecting those words, had prepared himself to be pushed away. Buffy knew this song and dance, the one where someone told her that she was wonderful and amazing and then left her for her own good. _Stupid fucking vampire._

_ Spike wanted to make a grand gesture? Well, so could she. _

Buffy lashed out with the heel of one foot, shattering a mirror. The sound of breaking glass was like a gunshot in the silence. She grunted and another mirror went down. _Not real._ _That emotion she understood_. It was the same one that had made him build the damn bot. A not-real Slayer to go with the not-a-real-boy vampire. A third mirror cracked, a second kick turning it to rubble.  

"Buffy?"

She spun to face him. "I don't need you! I've never needed anybody! But did you think, for one minute, to _ask_ me what I want? Or did you get so caught up in your own head that you forgot I might not bow to your infinite wisdom? I don't give a crap what these mirrors, or for that matter my family, friends, or the entire world, see."

She walked over to him, hands clenched into fists. When she raised them he flinched and it nearly killed her. With an effort she straightened her fingers, placing them lightly against his chest. "I will break every piece of glass in here if I have to, until it's just you and me, because I see you Spike. I see you, and if you need more than that to be real, then I don't know what to say."

His cold hands covered and pressed against hers, holding her in place. Wide blue eyes searched her face. Under her fingers Spike trembled. She saw the exact moment hope kindled deep inside him. His voice was a hoarse whisper: "You know what to say.”

One of his hands rose to cradle her cheek. 

For a second Buffy froze, afraid of herself. Fearful that she’d somehow screw up this moment or that she’d find her love thrown back at her face again. She took a deep breath. _Quit it._ This was now. Gone was the hurt and the pain. While she might remember what had happened, those things didn’t exist between her and Spike anymore. This was her second chance and the only one that could screw it up was her.

_ Fuck that. _

“Spike,” she murmured. Buffy took a deep breath, spoke louder: “Spike, I love you.”

He brushed his thumb over her lips. "I love you too."

Buffy felt her legs start to give way, but he caught her, holding her tightly to him.

"I hate to bring this up." Her words were muffled from where she was pressed against his chest. "But you talked to Angel, didn't you?"

His groan was all the answer she needed.

"He got inside your head, the jerk. Probably told you all about how I need the chance to be normal, that I deserve more than what you can give me, that I need to follow my destiny." She could feel him nod.

“There was also a lot of stuff about the soul, that if I knew the difference between right and wrong then I had to know that being with you was wrong, that I was dragging you into the dark.”

She sighed.  "He's a hypocritical ass. Angel wants you out of the way so he can make his move." Spike growled low, in the back of his throat. "He was making these puppy dog eyes at me the whole time we were dealing with Eyghon." The growl got louder. "So don't listen to anything he says, he's just trying to get into my pants."

Buffy found herself being slammed into the wall, Spike's mouth hard on hers, the demon was out and she teasingly ran her tongue across his fangs. Her head fell back and she grinned. "Not so ready to give me up now, are you?" He answered by grinding his erection against her stomach.

With a hand that only slightly shook she pointed towards the middle of the room. "There, I want to see."

His vamp face melted away and Spike leered down at her. "Come on then, Bess, you naughty thing." He led her in front of one of the larger mirrors that she hadn't broken. He stood in front of her, running his hands softly over her face. He kissed her again, less urgently, and shrugged off his duster and button up. When she tried to bring her arms around him he stopped her.

"Now keep good watch," he said, pressing one more kiss to her lips.

It was a line from her poem. Her heart clenched.

Spike had his hands on the hem of her shirt and was eyeing the buttons. Her nipples pebbled under his gaze. He leaned forward, nipping and sucking on one through the soft fabric. A moan escaped her and she arched her back. With a snarl he gave up on unbuttoning her blouse and just grabbed the neckline and ripped. She let the remains flutter to the floor. He bent, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking and flicking the end with his tongue. Buffy turned her head to the side, looking in the mirror there. She was flushed, her eyes dark, lips swollen. The breast he was working on was clearly lifted up and away from her ribs, and as she watched he brought his hand to cup the other, massaging his palm over the peak.

It was much better than when she'd been invisible, because all she had to do was flick her eyes forward and there he was, determined to give her a pretty show. She pushed all thoughts that weren't now out of her head. That girl who’d needed to be invisible to let go and enjoy herself didn't exist anymore, she knew who she was and what she wanted.

Buffy tugged at Spike's shirt and he obligingly took it off. Her hands glided across his smooth skin, she watched herself in the mirror as she outlined the contours of her lover. She kissed his chest, nipping at his flat nipples to make him moan. Her tongue dipped and darted up the column of his throat. Their mouths met again in a tangle of lips and tongues and teeth.

While still kissing her, Spike put his hands on the waistband of her skirt. This time he didn't even bother looking for fastenings before tearing it off. His fingers explored down her abdomen and onto her mons, and he purred when he found no further cloth to impede him. Continuing his path, he flicked his nail over her already swollen clit, then teased her folds with lazy strokes. Buffy was mewling into his mouth, rocking her hips against his hand.

"Want more, pet?" Her hands were on his upper arms, squeezing.

"Gah-" she gasped. "I mean: always." He chuckled. Pulling his hand from between her legs he brought it up between them, but instead of licking it himself, he grazed his finger across her lips. When she opened he pushed it deep into her mouth. His other hand turned her head so she was watching herself suck her own juices while she fellated his finger.

 His lips brushed her ear as he whispered to her: "That's my favorite taste in the whole world, luv. Not even your blood can compare to your honey. Can you feel the bite of your arousal on your tongue?"

She sucked harder and he groaned. A few more times in and out and he removed the finger. Dragging the tip, now wet with her spit, around one of her nipples.

"I'm going to make you feel so good. Won't you be my good girl Bess?" She nodded and he dropped to one knee in front of her. Spike grabbed her left wrist and brought it to his shoulder, then lifted her right leg and set her foot on his bent knee. Behind him she could see herself in the mirror, and she turned her knee out to give him better access. With one hand he grabbed her hip, the other he brought back to her folds.

He stroked a blunt finger over her clit, making her gasp. "Your little bud here, it's so sensitive." He tapped it with his tongue, then stroked it with his finger again. "I know you like to be petted there, and it's always ready for me, I never have to go hunting for it." He returned to laving her nub with his tongue. Her free hand came to rest on the back of his head. When her fingernails started to dig in he stopped. "Move you hand so you can see," he said hoarsely. Obediently she dropped it back to her side and returned her eyes to the mirror.

Moving his head back slightly he used his fingers to spread her labia, exposing the entrance to her pussy.  He nuzzled his face against her thigh. "You like me to lick that tasty berry of a button, but I know what the Slayer really wants…"

"What do I want?" she panted.

Buffy heard the slight sounds of his face shifting "To be tongue fucked in that sweet little hole by a demon." Spike pressed his face right up against her pussy, growling in his eagerness. His tongue darted in and out of her, clever fingers returning to trace circles over her clit. Looking in the mirror at the wild girl there, she almost didn't recognize herself. Breasts heaving, hips undulating, she liked the uninhibited creature she saw. Unable to help herself, she brought first one, then the other hand up to clutch at his head and pull him even closer. He snarled against her as his tongue continued to work. Buffy arched her back, her pelvis jutting forward. Her orgasm was building fast, spurred on by the animalistic noises her vampire was making as he worked between her thighs.

She peaked with an involuntary yell. The orgasm went on and on, pleasure rolling in waves. Her toes were barely brushing the floor now; she was suspended from her hands on his hand with her foot on his thigh braced so she could push her cunt harder against his mouth as she rode his face. She quickly came again, white hot flashes exploding across her vision.

As she started to come down Spike urged both her feet back onto the floor. He was looking up at her in awe, her cream coating his mouth and chin. "Goddess," he whispered before springing to his feet in one smooth motion. The demon was gone, and his hands were tearing at his jeans to get them off. "On all fours, pet, I'm going to fuck that pussy so hard you're not going to bloody well remember your name."

 Buffy did as she was told, bracing herself on her forearms, and widening her thighs as she heard his boots and then his jeans hit the ground. She turned her head and caught sight of herself in another mirror, looking like a picture from a dirty magazine. Was that sex kitten really her?

Her vampire knelt behind her. He ran one hand up her thigh to her hip, using the other to position his cock at her opening.

"Spike," she said softly.

"Yes," he paused.

"Call me kitten?”

“As you wish, kitten.”  Then he was inside of her and there was nothing else in existence except the feel of him.

****

Spike's duster wasn't much padding between her and the floor, but Buffy was finding it hard to care. Her whole body felt loose and relaxed, if somewhat bruised. More importantly, as she lay there on her back, her vampire was pressed up close against her side. His hand was splayed over her chest, feeling her heart beat.

She had one hand behind him and was lazily running a finger up and down the bumps of his spine. “I missed you so much,” she murmured against his temple.

His entire body tensed beside her. “Are you sure it was me you were missing?”

"Huh?" Her fuzzy brain desperately tried to figure out what’d happened.

"I'm still not entirely sure if it's me or the ghost in your head that you see when we’re together."

She groaned. It was good they were talking, there’d never been enough of that, but holy hell she had never realized how much of his cocky swagger existed to cover up the frightened man underneath. "Spike, I don't think any of us are made for this sort of situation. I don't even know how to explain it, everything's so damn complicated. I just know that right this minute, I love you, the you that is right in front of me. You are the guy in my head.”

“Partly.” He rubbed his chest, a ruefully look on his face.

“I’m not talking about the soul, or whatever that is. I told you, it makes me happy because it let things happen faster than they might have otherwise. But I’m serious, all the things that make you into someone that I love turn out to be things you’ve always possessed. I was just blind to them for a long time.”

“What kind of things?”

“Ugh, I’m so not word-girl, especially after you just scrambled my brains.” He relaxed a fraction and a little self-satisfied smirk appeared on his lips. “Okay, I like how expressive you are, I always know what you’re feeling.”

“I’m not sure wearing one’s heart on one’s sleeve is something to aspire to.”

“Shush, this is my list. I like that you’re a lot smarter than you want most people to believe, and book smart too. I love that you can come up with a plan but usually you end up getting too inpatient and just scrap it in favor of jumping in feet first with fists swinging.” He snorted. “I like that you brag, that your mouth doesn’t come with an off switch, that you can nearly beat me in a fight.”

“Hey!”

“I said shush. You have no idea how important it is to me that you don’t care that I might be physically stronger than you, that you don’t need me to be some little lady you have to take care of.”

“I’m starting to think you’ve known some real wankers in your time.”

“Yeah.”

The was a pause and Spike curled his body tighter around hers. “What about us? Where were we this time seven years ago?"

Buffy sighed, but allowed him to change the subject. "At this exact moment, seven years ago, we hated each other, y’know, like a vampire and Slayer. Round about now you'd be siccing the Order of Taraka on me so I'd stay busy while you finished up preparations to heal Drusilla."

"The Order of Taraka- that sounds extreme." She noticed he side-stepped the mention of Dru.

"I was seriously annoying you, though to me you were just another vampire that needed to be dusty."

"Just another vampire?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm offended."

"I was worried about my petty teenage dramas, not you."

Spike shook his head and rolled his eyes at her, then ran a finger down through the valley between her breasts. "I think I like this better."

“Me too.”

“What about this soul that somehow ended up following you?”

Buffy attempted to quell the stab of panic that went through her chest. “What about it?”

“How’d I end up with it?”

“I…I can’t tell you that.”  Her voice nearly cracked. She knew he had no idea what he was asking. “Look, it wasn’t a good time for either of us.” Buffy sat up and put her arms around her knees. “I was…I wasn’t a very good person, especially not to you. I hurt you over and over again, in every way imaginable. And you, you just took it. I was a monster and you still loved me.” She was trembling, her knuckles white as she locked her fingers together around her knees.

Spike sat up too, cross-legged on the wooden floor. As if she was a frightened animal he slowly laid his hands on her, resting them tenderly against her until she stopped shaking. With softly murmured words he gently eased her towards him until she was sitting in his lap, her head against his shoulder.

“I know it’s maybe not my place to say it, but I feel it. I forgive you, any sins you think you’ve committed against me, past, present and future. This part too.” He lightly placed one of her hands over the center of his chest.

“I don’t deserve that.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He ran his hands softly ran his hands over her back and legs. “Will you at least tell me about how I died?”

“Okay,” she whispered, pressing her cheek against the hard point of his shoulder. “We were fighting right on top of the opening to hell. There were, oh, I don’t know, thousands upon thousands of these super strong uber-vamps. We were losing, I was hurt, but you had this amulet thing." His eyebrow arched. "It's not important why you had it, just that you did.” _Liar, liar._ It was important, but she didn’t want to explain Angel’s part in the drama right at that moment. “When things seemed darkest the stone in the amulet lit up. It was brilliant with what was inside you, all the light and love, only it was killing you, burning you. I grabbed your hand and told you I loved you. It was the first time I’d ever said it.” _Because I was stupid._ “And…”

"And what?”

"And you said: 'No you don't, but thanks for saying it.'" Her voice was bitter.

"Did you get the hell out of there?" Spike was holding her tight enough to make her ribs ache.

"I sometimes think I’ll always be stuck there, in that moment," she said. "But yes, I ran and left you to crumble to ash by yourself."

"I think that's probably why I said that, to get you to leave."

"I know, it doesn't help. I…I hurt you so many times that I deserved it."

He shook his head. "Well, how about this then." Spike turned her so she was straddling his lap, his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. "Look, I'm a vampire, so inherently selfish, right?" She frowned, but nodded as much as his hands would allow. "So I'm thinking I wish you'd never had all this pain, but I can't help but be pleased that you're here with me." He kissed her softly. "And I get it now, all of it. You wanted me to kill you, to save me from you." He kissed along her neck. "That's some very twisted logic, Bess."

"I know. The whole plan didn't really work out anyway." She slid her hand down his chest and reached in between their bodies to grab his now erect cock, stroking it.

"And." His voice got ragged. "I get that you like being here with me now, because it's you that's not the same- oh, fuck, Buffy- let me be inside you, please!" She lifted up, guiding his cock into her. She rocked her hips, working herself down till she'd taken his entire length inside her. Spike's mouth fastened back on hers, and she rose up on her knees as much as she was able and let herself slam back down. Again and again she impaled herself. His hand found her clit, pinching and rubbing her while she worked, until she threw her head back, yowling her relief.

While the aftershocks were still making her legs shake, Spike grabbed her ass with both hands, and rose up so he was on his knees. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck while he bucked into her. "I need to hear it," she whispered into his ear, and she knew that now he understood. She looked directly into his eyes. “I love you.”

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I -" He gave a hoarse cry, flooding her passage with his cum. A few moments more of holding her and he laid her gently down on the floor. He stayed kneeling beside her, his head bowed. Buffy wiggled around until she could rest her head on his knee. He laid a hand on her shoulder and, for a while, they just were.


	28. Going Places

I'm as human as the next girl

            -Lush, “Ladykillers”

****

It'd been difficult to leave the hotel.

They'd blown out the candles and made it to the door leading outside before ending up against the wall in a desperate 'we don't want this night to be over' shag.

On only slightly wobbly legs his Slayer had stepped naked out into the moonlight. She'd left her shredded clothes behind; the scraps of fabric being too far gone to do anything with. Spike had draped his button down around her shoulders to give her some cover.

After the wall they'd gotten as far as the backseat of the DeSoto before desire had rolled over them again and they'd made the antiquated shocks squeal in protest.

The drive home was taking far longer than the drive to the hotel. He’d had to pull the car over once before they’d even made the highway, his Slayer’s mouth and fingers unable to be still. The second time he hadn’t even looked for a decent bit of shadow before slamming on the brakes and yanking the DeSoto over to the shoulder.

Now they were tangled around each other on the bench seat. Buffy was still breathing hard, her rib cage and tits pressing against his chest while the velvet soft walls of her pussy still fluttered occasionally around his softening cock.

“Spike,” she said tentatively. He popped an eye open and watched her mouth work as she tried to find words. His girl couldn’t be asking for another go around, not that he didn’t think he could, only that if she was, she wouldn’t be shy about it. “Do you feel…bad…when we’re not together?

He ran a hand over his face. He had pretty good idea what she was asking.  

She nodded and shifted her hips slightly on the seat, there was a wet noise as her skin came away from the leather. “When you’re not with me I start to feel ten kinds of weird and like I want to itch my skin off because it’s too tight. Lately it’s started to be physically painful when we’re apart.”

“Sometimes I feel like I might dust if I can’t touch you, hold you, right that second.”

“It gets better, though, when were together, right?” He nodded. “And the ache goes away altogether when we’re like this.” She gave a little voluntary muscle squeeze to his prick before she sat up. He groaned at being deprived of her heat. With a colossal effort he managed to get himself upright and tucked back into his pants. It only took him two tries to get the engine going and resume the drive back to town.

After a few minutes of silence Buffy said, very softly: “I think we might have a problem.”

“Oh.” He rolled down his window and lit a fag.

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but it’s not quite normal that I get more and more miserable the further I am from you, to the point it physically hurts and I end up super bitchy."

"That's different from normal how?" He chuckled at the sour look she gave him. "Yeah, that's about the gist of it. Don't really worry much about fixing it, I’ve just been look for ways for us to be together." He knew he’d been stretching every excuse he could to be beside her, but he’d thought it’d just been something he was feeling. Something to do with the spark.

"Ditto, but hear me out on this. We should probably talk to my Watcher about it." Spike frowned at her before flashing a hint of fang. "Stop." She smacked his arm lightly. "Giles is not so bad. I just want figure out why going literally anywhere without you is almost impossible. I think something’s up. Patrol is going to get weird pretty soon if we’re permanently attached at the hip.”

He leered at her and his Bess flushed a lovely shade of pink. “I can think of worse fates.”

“So not what I meant. I just think we need to make sure of the reason behind it. What if it’s an outside influence? Is it going to keep getting worse? Are we going to end up screwing buck naked in the middle of my mother’s lawn until we starve to death?”

Spike sighed. She had a point. It was all rather odd no matter how enjoyable it felt. “Do we have to involve your bloody wanker of a Watcher?"

She put her hand on his thigh, drawing lazy and distracting circles. "Yes, it means he'll have to invite you into his apartment. I can think of some highly enjoyable things to do there." Her voice became husky. “A few of them involve chains.”

He groaned. The girl was going to be the death of him. Christ, that wasn’t the best choice of phrase. He eyed the long curve in the highway ahead. Her hands were wandering north again and he was going to have to find at least one more place to stop.

****

Spike pulled up in front of her house with morning just on the horizon. The DeSoto squealed to a stop.

"Sun’s almost up." His voice was regretful. “I should really go check on things at the factory.”

Buffy touched his arm, "Spike, it's fine. I know you need to take care of Drusilla."

"Not that she wants me to." He was knitting his fingers into her tangled hair. His face looked pained.

“It’s okay." She ran a hand over his brow, trying to smooth away the worry. “It’ll be okay.”

"You never stop surprising me." He used his hold on her hair to pull her close for a brief kiss.

“Don’t be gone too long.” She turned her head and bit his wrist, making him hiss.

"You little monster,” he rumbled affectionately.

She let go of his wrist, pleased with the mark she'd left. She wanted to tell him to not go, to remind him she physically hurt when he wasn't there. But that sounded way too clingy and needy. Plus, she was worried that he would come inside and spend the day if she asked, and then be resentful about it. "When will I see you next?"

He frowned, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "Is patrol tonight okay?"

"Perfect." God, what were they doing? Talking like everything was going to be fine instead of a litany of agony until she saw him again.

Spike picked her hand up from the car's bench seat, and kissed her palm. Then his face shifted as he brought his fangs out and he nipped with one point into the fleshy part of her hand between the thumb and fore finger. It hurt like hell, and she gave a little yip, but didn't pull away. He sucked the few tiny drops of blood he got, then released her hand as his human mask settled back in place.

"I love you, Buffy. Think about me today, I'll see you tonight."

She pinched the spot he'd bitten, making herself shiver. "I love you too. Now I’ll just go walk the shame-iest walk of shame that ever shamed."

The car door squeaked as she got out. Surreptitiously she tugged the button-down shirt as low as it could go over her legs and hoped for a lack of morning breezes. Halfway to her door she heard her nosy neighbor holler at her.

"Buffy, is that you?" The woman was unabashedly staring.

"Hi!" Buffy waved. "Great morning, isn't it?"

The Slayer held her head high, leaving the old cow speechless.

Buffy made it to her door and let herself in, the DeSoto's engine roaring behind her as Spike took off. Nearly in tears at being alone, she closed the door and turned around to find her mother standing in the living room, hands on hips.

"Hi, Mom!"

Joyce was frowning. "That's an interesting look, honey. Do I even want to ask what happened to your clothes?"

"They weren't so clothes shaped, anymore." Buffy made a few awkward gestures with her hands.

"Right. You know it's a school day?"

"Oh." She'd totally forgotten. "Can you call the school for me? I promise I won't make a habit of it."

"This once."

"Cool! Thanks!" Buffy ran up the stairs before things got any weirder. She paused on the top step and she could have sworn she heard her mom chanting: "She's not sixteen, she's not sixteen, she's not…"

Buffy was shaking slightly. God, she’d just spent the entire night with Spike and she already missed him so badly that her stomach was hurting. She crossed her arms over her abdomen and collapsed on the edge of her bed. Part of her mind was aware it wasn’t normal to feel like this and she had to talk to Giles about it, but that didn’t override the visceral need that was consuming her. She dropped her face into her hands and let the tears out.

A loud noise outside her window made her look up. Spike was pushing the sash up, cursing the sun as he tumbled into her room. He yanked the curtains closed and scooped her up against him. Her tears turned to ones of relief.

“I couldn’t go,” he panted against her neck. The pain was gone. She pressed herself as tight as she could against him. “We’re going to have to talk to him, aren’t we,” he said after a few minutes.

She nodded. “Later.”

He coaxed her down so they were lying together on the bed, limbs entangled. “Yeah, later.”

****

The phone was ringing, but she couldn’t get to it, something was weighing her down. “Phone,” she croaked. “Answer the phone.”

“Hello.” Spike’s sleep-thickened voice rumbled into the receiver. Her eyes snapped opened. She couldn’t move because at some point while they’d been sleeping, Spike had rolled so he was mostly on top of her, with an arm and a leg wrapped around the parts of her that his weight wasn’t pinning to the mattress.  He’d answered the phone and just dumped it on the pillow next to their heads.

“Spike?” It was her Watcher and he sounded less than happy. “What are you doing? Where’s Buffy? If you’ve hurt her I swear I’ll…”

“It’s for you.” Spike lifted up his elbow enough to let her pull her arm out and grab the phone. Once she had it he cuddled back against her.

“I’m right here,” she said, interrupting Giles’ tirade.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat.

“Did you need something?”

“Why is Spike there?”

She was still tired. Sleep was threatening to pull her back down into dreamland and her Watcher wasn’t making sense. “Where else would he be?”

There was an exasperated sigh. “Where else indeed. Actually I was phoning to ensure that you were planning to go patrolling tonight.”

“Of course. Buffy patrols.” She yawned. There was something else she was supposed to ask Giles about. “Oh hey, we need to have a meeting and talk. There a…thing to talk about.”

“I believe we already have a meeting planned for tomorrow night, is that soon enough?”

“Yup, bye.” She pushed the button to end the call and dropped the receiver off the edge of the bed. It’d probably be a good idea to make Spike move because eventually circulation was going to be an issue. But that would require waking him up and she’d actually have to move, both of which sounded like terrible plans. She turned her head and pressed her lips against her vampire’s throat. Sleep was better.

****

Sunnydale had turned out to be nothing like what Kendra had expected. For a town on top of a hellmouth, it was a surprisingly clean and cheerful place. After crawling out of her hiding place in the plane’s cargo hold she’d been at a loss for what to do. The instructions her Watcher had given her had been vague, she was to stop to rising of a dark power but had no idea exactly when, where or what was going to happen. With no obvious signs pointing to evil happenings, Kendra had started patrolling the cemeteries in the town looking for a vampire or demon she could potentially beat some information out of.

Eventually she admitted that while the town seemed to have more than its share of creepy, gothic style final resting places, they were amazingly empty. It almost felt like someone had been there just before her, leaving everything peaceful in their wake. Kendra had to admit it was starting to piss her off.  

When a high pitched scream broke the silence it was a relief. Finally, something to do. She took off running towards where the noise had come from.

Two figures darted among the tombstones. Kendra stopped her dash, crouching behind a headstone. Leaning out slightly she attempted to scope out the situation. A petite blonde girl hurtled out from between a rose bush and a marble plinth. Right on her tail was a dangerous looking man dressed in black. It appeared to Kendra like she might be interrupting a much more mundane attack than the supernatural challenge she'd been hoping for.

The man caught up to the girl and grabbed her about the waist, lifting her off her feet. The little blonde struggled, sending both her and her attacker crashing to the ground with another scream. The yell turned to giggles as the couple went from halfhearted wrestling to a deep, open mouthed kiss.

"You're screaming to wake the dead, luv," the man in black said, while allowing the girl to bowl him over so he was flat on his back.

"Is it working yet?" The girl was straddling the man now, hands on his shoulders. She leaned forward for another kiss.

Kendra groaned. Seriously, find somewhere else besides a vampire infested graveyard to make out in. Humans never learned. The only thing off about the situation was that the guy looked to be ten years older than the girl, who had to still be in high school. But Kendra wasn't the cradle robbing police so she mentally dusted her hands of the couple. Judging by the way the blonde girl was currently sucking face with her boyfriend she wasn't in any distress anyway. Kendra got up to go when an ugly growl made her spin back around.

A large, grotesquely disfigured man was advancing on the couple. Whatever Kendra thought of their personal relations, it was her job to protect unsuspecting humans from the forces evil. She was pretty sure Mr. One-Eye qualified as evil. A wicked-looking knife appeared in her hand and she tensed her muscles to attack. But the couple surprised her again. The girl spun up and off her lover, landing in a fighting stance, fists raised. The man in black fluidly followed her, drawing a knife of his own as he settled into a protective position at the girl's back.

Kendra waited, knife in hand, intrigued to see if the couple could hold their own against the attacker.  The answer quickly became a firm ‘yes’. The girl was fast and strong, keeping the monster’s attention with lightning quick attacks while the man slipped around to the left in an attempt to flank the creature. He landed a few solid punches before the creature caught him with a backhand and sent him flying.

The girl immediately distracted the cyclops, tossing a rock at its head. After being thrown like that Kendra was startled to see the man in black already back up on his feet. The man circled the creature and Kendra gasped. The man was a vampire, the bumps and ridges of his demonic face framing yellow eyes. With a snarl he launched himself at the hulking creature in a whirl of fists and fangs.

While the monster was distracted the girl had picked up the knife the vampire had dropped when he’d been thrown. With a feral growl the vamp snapped the cyclops’s head to the side and the girl was waiting. She jammed the knife deep into the creature’s one eye. The hulking monster toppled like a felled tree.

The vampire and the girl stared at it for a moment before the girl bent down and pulled something from the dead creature’s hand and slipped it into her pocket. The girl flipped her blonde hair and smiled widely at her companion. The space between them became non-existent. The man was still wearing his demon face but the girl was lip-locked with him anyway. She must be a vampire as well.

Kendra sighed heavily and sank down with her back against the headstone. The display of affection between the monsters sickened her, but there was nothing she could do. She wasn’t strong enough to take both of them on at once. Feral grunts and screeches let her know the vampires were still…entertaining each other.

Thirty minutes later Kendra lucked out. The blonde girl walked by only a few yards from where she was sitting. Rolling slowly to her feet Kendra followed after the oblivious vampire. She unsheathed her stake.

****

Splitting up to cover more ground to see if the assassin had been by his lonesome had proven to be a terrible idea. Buffy was so wrapped up in trying to control the not-with-Spike-ouchies that she very nearly ended up with a stake in her chest. At the last instant she was able to jerk to the side and the wood barely grazed her shoulder. She snapped her elbow to the side, disarming her opponent. The other girl growled and dove to reclaim her weapon.

“Kendra?” Buffy stared at the other Slayer, who’d rolled into an attack stance with a white knuckled grip on the stake.

“You know me?”

“Yeah, I’m Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.” Buffy held her hands up, took a step back, and tried to look non-threatening. 

“That is not possible.”

“It totally is, just calm down and I’ll explain.”

“You lie,” Kendra spat. “I saw you kissing a vampire!”

“Spike!”

“I don’t care what the demon’s-” Kendra was cut off as Spike grabbed her from behind, his arms wrapping around hers and forcing them behind her back. The stake clattered to the ground again. Buffy sighed as Kendra struggled briefly before going still and hanging limply in Spike’s hold.

“Just make it quick,” she panted.

“She’s a Slayer.” Spike’s brow knotted.

“Spike, this is Kendra. She is, in fact, also a Vampire Slayer. I’ll explain in a minute. Kendra, this is Spike, my boyfriend. Yes, he’s a vampire, but he has a soul and he’s not going to hurt you.” Kendra didn’t look so sure. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Spike’s going to let you go and we’re going to walk to my Watcher’s house. His name is Rupert Giles and you can stay with him. Okay?” Buffy reached out and put her hand on Kendra’s arm, letting the other girl feel how warm her skin was.

After a moment Kendra nodded and Spike released her arms. She scrambled away from the vampire, eyes wide.

“Let’s go. I’ve got better things to be doing than this.” Buffy’s eyes flicked to her vampire before she walked off in the direction of Giles’ place. Spike fell into step beside her and Kendra followed a few seconds later.

They walked in silence for a few blocks before Spike tilted his head towards Buffy. “So, how come there’s another Slayer?”

Behind them Kendra quickened her pace so she could eavesdrop. Buffy spared a glance back over her shoulder, but the other Slayer’s hands were clearly visible and weapon free. Buffy took a deep breath and interlaced her fingers with Spike’s.

“You know I killed the Master earlier this year, right?”

“Little bird did tell me that one.”

“I died.”

“Excuse me?” Spike stopped dead, his grip on her hand becoming painfully tight as he turned his whole body to face her. Kendra nearly collided with them, hastily retreating when both Slayer and vampire turned cold stares her way.

“The Master bit me and he drank, but he didn’t drain me.” A growl rumbled low in Spike’s chest and his eyes flashed yellow. His free hand came up to cover the scar on her neck. Buffy’s eyes fluttered closed. There was a hitch in her voice as she continued. “I passed out and he dropped me, face first, into what amounted to little more than a dirty puddle. And I drowned.” She giggled, biting it back almost immediately. Spike’s unblinking blue eyes were boring holes in her. “Xander pulled me out. I wasn’t even gone a minute, and he resuscitated me, but I’d been dead just long enough for a new Slayer to be called. That’d be Kendra.”

Spike’s lips were pursed. He let go of her and started walking again. A few more blocks and his hand found hers once more. “You die a lot, Slayer,” he grumbled.

“I know.”

“You’re going to have to break that habit.”

She smiled. “I’ll try.”

“You bloody better…Did Xander really save you?”

“Yes, he really saved me.”

“I guess I owe him one, then.”

Buffy swung their joined hands back and forth. “Jelly donuts work.”

“Raspberry or Boston cream?”

“Yes.”

Spike grinned.

****

Kendra eyed the Watcher as he made up a bed for her on the couch. There’d been a hasty introduction during which Buffy had been inside for less than three minutes, her back plastered against the door the whole time. The vampire had remained outside and Kendra wasn’t sure that Giles had even been aware that he was there. There was the distinct possibility Giles was ignorant of his Slayer’s perversions and could be in great danger.

“Do you know your Slayer is dating a vampire?” she asked, her voice tight.

The man didn’t pause. “Yes, I’m well aware.”

“I am sure the Council would not approve.”

“No, I suppose not, but there’s not much I can do about it.”

Kendra frowned. “But you’re her Watcher, simply forbid it.”

“If only it were that easy,” he chuckled. Kendra didn’t understand. If Buffy was a Slayer her duty bound her to obey her Watcher and the Council. It was one of the first rules the handbook laid out.

“It is lunacy; she must be under a thrall.” Kendra’s frown deepened. “Perhaps you are as well.”

“Dear lord. Am I correct in surmising that you have studied a great deal since you were identified as a potential?” Giles fluffed a pillow and dropped it on the edge of the couch before locating the glass of whiskey he’d poured himself earlier.

“I have followed the standard program of learning.” Kendra was insulted to think this man might believe she had done otherwise.

He waved a hand. “Good, good. Then you should know that William the Bloody has no thrall.”

Kendra gasped. “That was…”

“Don’t call him that in front of Buffy unless you want an earful.” Giles’ face softened and he put a fatherly hand on her shoulder. “My dear, it’s a rather long and complicated story. Get some rest, we can discuss Buffy’s love life in the morning.” He took a large sip of his drink. “After tea. Most definitely after. ”

****

The wind was cold, even for November, much chiller than the night before. It sliced through the sweater Buffy was wearing, making her shiver. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself. Dead leaves skittered over the sidewalk and around her ankles. She was suddenly enveloped in black leather. It wasn't warm, but the duster did block the breeze.

"Thanks Spike," she said, smiling at the vampire that was walking next to her. The coat was far too long for her, so after wrapping it tightly around herself she stuck her hands in the pockets to hold the hem up off the ground.

"Told you to bring a better jacket," he grumbled, fingers twitching at this side.

Spike had been edgy since they’d left the house. Everything he'd said to her, when she could get him to talk at all, had been either angry or snarky. He was so obviously uptight about the Scooby meeting the she found it endearing and impossible to be mad at him. Which of course only made him grumpier. Inside the pocket of the duster her hand brushed his cigarette pack. She pulled one out and stopped him with a hand on his arm. He didn't resist as she planted the smoke between his lips and cupped her hand around the lighter to keep the flame from blowing out while he lit the end.

Blowing a long stream of smoke out, he nodded at her "Ta." The cigarette gave him something to do with his flighty hands and made him at least appear calmer.

"One more time, you know you don't have to do this." Buffy said. They'd already been round and round about it, every time coming back to it was best to have Spike in the loop regarding anything with The Order, and that they needed to talk to Giles about the mutual weirdness. Not that it was actually weird, at least in her opinion. Comforting, yes, calming, yes, weird- not so much anymore.

Spike grabbed her shoulder, stopping her again. He turned, standing so close she had to tilt her head up to see his stormy eyes. "I'm starting to think you want me to take one of these outs you keep trying to give me. Did you lose your bottle, luv? Not so sure you want the Big Bad mixing with your precious white hats?" His fingers dug hard into her, his face closed off and unreadable.

"Lose my what?" sometimes Buffy felt like she needed a Spike to American translator. He didn't elaborate, just gave her a shake. "Spike, I want you there. I'm trying to make sure you don't feel like I'm forcing you to do this. That's all." He didn't let go, continuing to search her eyes. Buffy brought her hands to either side of his face, running her fingers along his cheekbones before pressing her palms to his jaw. The muscles there were tight.

"Buffy, I'm used to it."

"Used to what?"

"To people looking at me and judging. Spent a long time under Angelus' thumb, got used to it. I learned how to not let it in too far." He took a deep breath. Buffy had some reservations about the last part, knew there was still a place deep inside him that cared a little too much about what others thought of him. Spike had just spent so long protecting it that she was probably the only person that even knew to look for it. The vampire certainly didn't seem to care what other demons thought, and it'd be a cold day in hell before he ever admitted that the opinion of the Scoobies affected him. So that left her and her reactions.

Ah-ha!

"Are you worried about how I'm going to act when we get around everyone else?" she asked, continuing to softly stroke his face in an effort to ease the tension. His indigo eyes flashed before he dropped his lids to hide the emotion from her.

"You can read me too bloody well," he sighed. His gaze returned to her, searching. "You and me walk into your Watcher's little hacienda together, and none of your mates are going to be thinking about rainbows and puppy dogs."

Buffy giggled, which made him frown. "I'm pretty sure they're all going to be thinking: 'They're screwing. Buffy is screwing that vampire,' plus a lot of mental images that are probably nowhere near as dirty as we actually get." She was smiling, biting her bottom lip as she gazed up through her lashes at him. "And you know what, Spike?" She leaned up so her breath tickled his ear. "I don't give a rat's ass."


	29. Questions

I think I remember but it's twice as good

                 -Bobby Bloom, “Montego Bay”

****

Giles was nervous. Jenny kept giving him worried looks as he paced back and forth in front of the door. Every time someone had knocked he'd jumped and spent a few seconds patting down and straightening his jacket before opening the door. The living room had slowly gathered the usual suspects: Xander, Cordelia, and Willow. Angel was still missing, but Giles hadn't heard back from him and wasn't sure he'd show. Kendra was sitting on the floor, scowling at the others.

"So where's Buffy?" Cordelia asked, hands on hips. She was wearing a floral dress that looked more appropriate for a garden party than a Scooby meeting.

"I'm sure her and her special friend will be along any minute," Xander sighed. "It's probably just hard for them to walk with their lips locked together." From behind him Willow made a face and poked his shoulder through the very loud Hawaiian shirt he was wearing.

"So what's the big deal with this guy?" Cordelia was studying her nails, sounding less than impressed.

Giles shot Xander a look. "Has no one filled Cordelia in on this?" he asked. Kendra groaned.

"It's the boy she was dancing with at the Bronze, right?" Cordelia tapped the toe of one expensive strappy pink pump.

Willow nodded. "It's Bronze guy, but you should know-"

"So why should I care who she's being a ho with?" Cordelia interrupted. “I mean seriously, it’s Buffy.”

"Cordy," Xander said patiently. "The guy's a vampire."

She paled. "What?"

"Remember the vamp that attacked the school? Y'know, you broke a nail running away from him?" Xander asked her, quirking his lips. Cordelia nodded slowly. "That's totally who our friendly neighborhood Slayer's been shacking up with."

"He's not that bad-" Willow looked affronted.

"I'm not sure 'shacking up' is the right term-" Giles contended.

A loud knock at the door silenced the room. All eyes turned towards the entryway as Giles tugged at his jacket one more time, unlocked the door, and pulled it open.

Spike was leaning against the door frame, one hand up by his head, resting on the jamb. The other arm was wrapped around Buffy who was tucked into his side. There were several moments of silence, then Giles recovered enough to step back, muttering: "Spike, Buffy, won't you come in." Buffy smiled at her Watcher, stepping into the apartment with Spike trailing along behind her. He smirked at Giles, then stopped a few paces into the room, casting an appraising look around the space. Giles noticed that Buffy's eyes never left the vampire, and that there was a worried line between her brows. Whatever Spike's reaction was to everything was obviously far more important to her than everyone else's reaction to him.

After a few minutes of intense perusal that left the younger Scoobies leaning away from him and Kendra with her back straight and muscles stiff, Spike shrugged, walked over to the couch and sat sprawled out, one booted foot up on the coffee table. Buffy sat next to him, perched nervously on the edge of the couch cushion. Spike's hand rested on her lower back, making little circles.

Giles realized he was staring and cleared his throat. “Spike, I believe you know almost everyone here, with the exception of Cordelia who’s wearing the flowered dress, and in the kitchen is Ms. Calendar.”

Spike nodded at Cordelia, who was just standing there with her mouth hanging open. Giles’ conscience let him know that he shouldn’t feel quite as satisfied as he did seeing Buffy knock the obnoxious cheerleader down a peg or two. Spike at least looked a good deal more impressive that anything Cordelia had managed to drag home.

Jenny came out of the kitchen with a determined look on her face. “Spike.” She smiled and stuck her hand out. “It’s great you can join us. I’m Jenny, it’s nice to meet you after hearing so much about you.”

The vampire did a double take and then shook her hand politely. “Jenny, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Giles pinched the bridge of his nose as he watched Ms. Calendar’s smile widen. Wonderful, the vampire had manners.

Kendra grunted something unintelligible from where she was sitting. "Slayer," Spike acknowledged.

Her hands curled tight into fists. "Vampire," she spat.

Buffy glared at Kendra. "None of that,” Buffy warned. “And don't even think of trying anything. I can cream you with one hand tied behind my back, and Spike and I are pretty evenly matched." Spike gave Buffy a grin for the roundabout compliment. "If you do try staking him, you'll be dead, and I'll laugh while we’re hiding the body." Buffy had gone rigid, ice in her voice.

"I think she gets the message, pet." Spike's hand moved to her side and gently tugged at her. Buffy sagged against him, tucking her feet under her and resting her head on his shoulder.

"Now that we're all here," Giles said. "We can get down to business."

"Right," Spike said. He pulled a ring off a finger from the hand he had around Buffy. "Catch, Watcher." Giles scrambled to yank the spinning silver object from the air. Buffy elbowed Spike, who just shrugged.

"What is it?" Willow asked.

"Recognize it?" Buffy said, once Giles had a chance to squint at the design.

"It looks familiar, but I can't quite place it." He handed the ring to Willow before looking pointedly at Buffy. "I'm guessing you've seen it before."

"Can't get anything by you Giles. It's the Order of Taraka."

"Dear Lord." The Watcher paled.

"This is from the thing you two killed in the cemetery?" Kendra asked.

To Giles’ consternation Buffy turned bright red. “Oh, you saw that?”

“Not all of it, exactly.” Kendra was studying the pattern on the rug intently.

“Uh, good.” Buffy shot a glare at Spike, who was grinning like the Cheshire cat. He said something in her ear that earned him a giggle and a swat on the knee. Giles shook his head. Those two were going to send him to an early grave.

“It was a well-executed fight,” Kendra offered.

“Thank you,” Buffy said. “The guy was pretty tough.”

Xander was squinting at the ring now. “Don’t keep us in suspense here, what’s the Order of Taraka and who sent them?”

“It’s a rather tenacious group of assassins,” Giles supplied. “Buffy?” He looked over at where she was tucked against Spike.

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“You never found out who was responsible the first time?” He couldn’t believe his Slayer would have faced that kind of threat and he wouldn’t have moved heaven and earth to figure out the responsible party.

“I didn’t say that,” Buffy grumbled.

“There was a first time?” Cordelia pursed her lips. “How often is there someone trying to kill you? Because it seems like a lot. Have you tried not pissing so many people off?”

Buffy ignored her. “The person responsible the first time wouldn’t be doing it this time.” Beside her Spike stirred, obviously unhappy. The vampire hauled her across his lap and enclosed her in a protective embrace, as if he could keep her safe that way, even from his alternate universe self.

Giles sighed. He may not be Spike’s biggest fan, but even he had to admit there was no way the vampire had called assassins down upon her head. “So what do we do?”

“Kill them all,” Spike snarled.

“A locator spell?” Willow suggested, looking at Jenny.

Xander was frowning. “Run away?”

“Are they going to come after me?” Cordelia asked. “Because I don’t really like Buffy and it seems a little harsh to be killed just because I talk to her sometimes.”

Kendra moved to stand beside Giles. “If it is Buffy they are after we should use her to draw them out. Set a trap.”

She’d spoken low but Spike had still heard. He was on his feet in a second, an arm still around Buffy who’d been forced to stand up as well. “You’re not using her for bloody bait!” His eyes flashed yellow and Kendra’s hand went to her stake.

Buffy grabbed the lapel of his duster and made an ‘I’m so sorry for my vampire’ face before she dragged him towards the hallway.

Xander grimaced. “I hate to agree with Spike, but I really don’t want one of my friends being used to lure out super assassins.”

“But we can’t wait for them just to randomly show up.” Willow glanced up from where she and Jenny had their heads together.

Giles groaned. “Look, there’s got to be a middle ground. I’m sure I have some books on them.”

“A Slayer has a duty to do whatever is necessary for the greater good!” Kendra was bristling.

Cordy held up a hand. “Will they come for me first? Don’t they always come for the pretty one first?”

****

The arguing was reaching a dramatic pitch. Spike was resting a shoulder against the wall in the hallway, an amused look on his face. Standing next to him, Buffy had her hands on her hips and was wearing a scowl.

"Are they always this bad?" he asked, just loud enough for her to hear.

"Not quite this bad. You know, I think I'll go check out the bathroom." Buffy shuffled down the hallway, but Spike didn’t hear the door open. A second later his Bess surprised him by grabbing his arm and dragging him along with her. "I said: I think I'll go check out the bathroom." She opened the door, pushed him in, followed, and closed it behind her. Then she was in his arms, pouting up at him.

"Sorry, Bess," he chuckled. "You're human, I thought you might actually have to use the loo."

"Nope." She leaned forward, and his eyes slid closed. His lips parted in anticipation, but she stopped a hairsbreadth from actually kissing him. Her hand on his chest kept him from reaching her, and he growled at the impediment. "Coat off." The duster fell to the ground with a soft thud. "Now the button down." He complied, but she still wasn't kissing him.

He opened his eyes, looking quizzically at her. Her head was tilted to the side, her expression intense. "What's the game, luv?" Spike asked quietly.

"We’re in the bathroom," she stated. Then pushed him back until his legs met the cold porcelain of the tub. "At my Watcher's place."

Spike's lust-addled brain was completely lost.

“I don’t see any chains, but I can make this work,” Buffy murmured.

At the word ‘chains’ the spark had woken up. It was thrilled to death. Spike hoped it’d help him with whatever his girl was thinking. She was making something right, like she had in the basement. God, he wanted to chase away every demon that lived in her head.  

“Get in." It wasn't a question. His already stiff prick jumped at the domineering tone of her words. Oh yeah, baby wanted to play. As gracefully as he could he stepped over the tub's rim to stand inside it. "Lay down, feet towards the faucet." He complied, propping himself up against the back, never once taking his eyes off her.

Buffy sat on the rim of the bath, her eyes smoldering as they traced him from head to toe. Her pupils were dilated and her pink lips swollen. Making sure she had his attention, she used one hand to gather up her hair. Slowly, she ran a finger up and down one side of her uncovered throat. "Look at my poor neck, all bare, and tender, and exposed. All that blood, just pumping away." He nearly lost control of the demon, only the instinct wasn't to kill and drain. No, the demon was screaming for him to take her, to slam his aching cock inside her while burying his fangs deep into her neck. Mine, mine, mine it was chanting. God, he was right and truly buggered.

A growl escaped him, and while he felt like he was in a movie that no one had bothered giving him the script for, it must have been the right thing to do because Buffy was on him in an instant. She straddled his hips, grinding her core against his straining erection. Whimpers and moans fell from her lips and her hot hands tugged up the hem of his shirt. She yanked it up over his head, then attacked his lips. As he straightened his arms to pull the shirt all the way off she stopped him. Leaning forward, which put her breasts right in his face so he couldn't complain, she ripped the black fabric and quickly tied his wrists together. Spike sucked one of her already pebbled nipples through the fabric of her top while she secured the makeshift restraints.

She sat back upright, her hand moving to twist at the nipple he'd just been enjoying. The sight made him buck up harder against her, and she moaned, throwing her head back. Both her hands were now playing with her own tits as she continued to dry hump him. It was torture to not touch her, but he let her play her game.

When her hips stopped moving Spike let out a groan of frustration.

"Are you going to tell me about The Initiative now? Be a good little vampire and maybe I won't forget to feed you." Buffy's eyes were glazed. She was seeing both now and a past that lived only between her ears.

What the hell was The Initiative?

"I'm neither good, nor little," he rumbled, pushing himself up against her she could feel just how not little he was. His jeans needed to come off soon, the zipper was really starting to dig in. "And I'm not telling you one thing more until I've been properly taken care of, you harpy."

Buffy jumped off him and for a second he thought he'd played it wrong, but then she stripped off her shirt, toed off her boots, and left her jeans in a puddle on the floor before she settled back on top of him. Tanned hands fluttered over his torso, touching every swell and dip of his flesh. Her fingers toyed with him, she found the groove between muscles that started at his hip and disappeared under his waistband. Lightly she traced it back and forth, going a little further each time.

He groaned. What the hell would he do if he’d been laying here, not in love with her? The spark pulsed. Okay, if he been laying here and not realizing how in love with her he was. “You’ve got me at your mercy, Slayer. You could torture it out of me, starve me until I’d babble anything you’d want to hear, or you could ask real nice.” He drawled out the last two words.

“Real nice sounds good.” Her hands trailed along his waistband to his fly and she quickly undid the button and zipper. She scooted down towards his knees, dragging his pants with her. She left them there, effectively hobbling him. Planting her hands on either side of his hips she leaned forward, her warm breath tickling his cock. She stalled again. Christ, the bloody bitch was going to be sad if he dusted underneath her from white hot lust. He thrust his hips up towards her so she’d get the idea.

Green eyes met his and the pink tip of her tongue appeared from between her lips. He whimpered. “Please, Slayer, please. I’ll tell you any damn thing you want.”

“Tell me I’m pretty.”

“You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. Sunlight captured and given human form.”

His Bess smiled, all the way up to her eyes.

“Tell me you want me.”

“I want you so bloody bad I can hardly think straight, and I don’t just mean right now. I can’t walk past a wall without thinking about having you up against it. At the second I’m blind with wanting you. Take pity on me.” She bent down towards the taut arc of his dick, once more not quite touching it. Her hands were splayed on either side, pinning his hips.

“Tell me you’ll never leave me.”

She was so close her lips brushed the underside of the almost purple head of his cock. Even that  was enough to make him gasp. “Never. I’m with you always, luv. There’s nothing you can do or say to make me go. You’re stuck with me from now to the end of blasted time.”

Buffy gave a muffled cry. The furnace of her mouth surrounded him as she hollowed her cheeks and drew him in as far as she could. Her hand was around the base of his cock, squeezing him tightly as she sucked. He wasn’t going to last. His hips jerked while her tongue swirled determinedly around his shaft. The faint scrape of her teeth against his over sensitized skin was the last push he needed. With a groan he came in her mouth, cock jerking as she drank his load down noisily.

Letting his shaft slip from between her lips she shimmied back up his body until she could kiss him. She tasted of him and the heady flavor of them mixed together meant that he was soon able to twist slightly to the side and prod her thigh with his renewed hard-on.

****

Buffy was in heaven again. She could admit to herself now how much sexual tension had been running between them during those heady days when Spike had first been forced to throw himself on the not-so-tender mercies of the Scoobies. They hadn’t treated him well, not that he’d been all sweetness and light, but maybe things could have gone differently.

Maybe she could have had this much earlier. Breaking the kiss with Spike, she looked down at him. “Do you still want to kill me? Make it so they’d be finding me for weeks?”

He shook his head. “I just want to fuck you into next week.” He leaned back against the tub, smirking.

She laughed and lightly scratched her nails down his chest until she reached his nipples. With an abrupt flick of her wrists she twisted both of them, hard. Spike vamped out and snarled at the pain. Her hand had already grasped his cock and she sank down on it with a sigh.

“There’s my demon,” she cooed as she began to ride him, her knees squeaking against the slippery enamel of the tub.  

****

Xander was tired, hungry, slightly miffed, and he needed to pee. Huffing, he walked to the bathroom to take care of at least one of those things. His eyes got very wide when he realized he wasn’t the only one in there.

Fear and panic tangled around themselves, rooting his feet to the floor. Spike was in full gameface, fangs bared as he snarled and snapped at Buffy.

Buffy who was…naked. His eyes stuttered over her breasts. They were bouncing slightly as she…

Oh god. Nope, he didn’t need to see this. And why the hell were they in the tub? Did Buffy always mew when she was having a good time? Oh right, she was having a good time with Spike, who was really about the same color as the tub. And geeze, how was anyone supposed to compete with those muscles?

He needed to leave. Okay, one more peek at Buffy’s breasts. Now he absolutely had to leave because Spike would probably kill him if he caught him ogling his girlfriend.

Xander spun on his heel and snuck back out of the bathroom, making sure to lock the door as he left.

Relieved to still be alive and finding that he no longer particularly needed to pee, Xander went to find somewhere new to sit. He yelped when a hand landed on his shoulder, but it was only Giles.

“Have you seen Spike and Buffy?” the Watcher asked.

“Uh, yeah, they’re busy.”

“Busy?”

“Yup. Very busy. In the bathroom. I hope no one needs it for a while.”

Giles groaned.

Xander jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to go get crackers. Because they’re salty, and crackers. You do have some, right? British people eat soup, don’t they?”

Giles gave him a sympathetic look. “How about a drink instead?”

“That’d be better than crackers.”

****

They’d crept out of the bathroom some time later. Spike had buttoned up his red shirt to hide the fact that his t-shirt had been shredded. In their absence it’d been decided that no specific trap would be set for the Order of Taraka, but that no one should be out alone at all, day or night, until the assassins had been sent packing. Buffy added a warning about traveling salesmen and not letting them into your house.

Giles had tried phoning Angel again, but once more only got his answering machine.

Buffy let out a sigh of relief once nearly everyone else headed for home. They didn’t have that long to talk privately since Kendra would be back after she made sure Willow had gotten home safely. Cordelia had volunteered to drive Xander, who’d seemed slightly tipsy, back to his place in her little red convertible.

Jenny sat down in the chair opposite the couch where Buffy and Spike were seated again, but Giles remained standing. His arms were crossed and he wore the same petulant look he had since they’d arrived.

Enough was enough.

“Giles, before we get into what we need help with, is there anything you’d like to say?”

He shook his head.

“Are you sure?” Buffy crossed her arms. “Because you’re acting like an ass.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You’ve spent the entire night either glaring at us or looking like you’ve just drunk spoiled milk.”

Giles shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I don’t think…”

Jenny snorted. “Rupert, she’s right. You really have.”

“Fine. I have. Pardon me for being a little frustrated with the situation. Intellectually I understand. I know that you two love each other, that Spike has his soul.” Ms. Calendar gasped. “That he wouldn’t hurt you intentionally, but my heart hasn’t caught up with it all yet. I keep expecting to find it’s all been a trick, some plot to kill my Slayer. And don’t look at me like that.” Spike was glaring at Giles. “It’s what you’re known for. I just, this is all so new, I simply need some time to come to terms with all this. I do believe, in the long run, that you will be an asset.”

Buffy put her hand on Spike’s arm, stalling him from replying. “Thank you, Giles. We appreciate it.”

The vampire nodded, once.

Ms. Calendar had scooted to the edge of her chair. “You have a soul?” she asked in a trembling voice.

“Yeah,” Spike didn’t look at her. He put an arm around Buffy again. She swung her legs up and crawled partway into his lap, snuggling her head into his shoulder.

“There’s some…not confusion.” Buffy frowned. “Questions, I guess, and we were wondering if there was a way we could more or less see Spike’s soul.”

Ms. Calendar’s fingers were digging into the chair’s armrests. “Why do you think I’m the best person to ask about this?” Her eyes wouldn’t meet Buffy’s.

The Slayer stared at the top of her teacher’s bowed head. “Because, Janna of the Kalderash, you know at least a little about vampires and their souls.” Jenny visibly deflated, sinking back into the chair. Buffy turned her head to look at her Watcher. Giles had his glasses in one hand and was gaping at Ms. Calendar. “Don’t be mad at her Giles. She was only doing what her family asked of her.”

“How did you know?” Ms. Calendar was pale, her hands now clasped tightly in her lap.

“Giles can fill you in on that later.” Buffy was tracing a finger over the lines on one of Spike’s palms. The last thing she wanted to sit through right now was another discussion of her time travel.

“And you.” Jenny looked up at the vampire. “Who cursed you? I’ve been trying to reconstruct the spell that was used and talking to them may help.”

“No curse,” Spike said, nuzzling against Buffy’s ear.

The Slayer giggled. “Totally not. I’m thinking Spike’s had more than one moment of happiness lately, and the soul’s still there.” She turned to smile at him, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek. He winked at her.

“Er, moment of happiness?” Giles asked.

Ms. Calendar sighed. “It’s what would break Angel’s curse. If he were to experience a moment of perfect happiness his soul would leave his body.” Buffy flinched and was glad for Spike’s soothing hand as it glided up and down her back.

“And…” Buffy prompted without looking at the gypsy.

“And I was sent here to make sure that didn’t happen.”

“Dear Lord,” Giles breathed.

“Might as well tell them the rest,” Spike said as he rested his forehead against Buffy’s.

“Do I have to?” she pouted.

Spike caught her lip and kissed her, and she forgot what she was doing for a moment until Giles cleared his throat. “There’s more?”

“Yeah.” Spike’s voice was slightly hoarse. “Me and Buffy seem to be rapidly developing something of a problem.”

“It’s only kind of a problem,” Buffy added.

He ran a finger down the slope of her nose. “Not a bad sort of problem, really,” he amended.

Giles snorted. “The point?”  

“Well.” Spike drew his brows together.

Buffy sighed. “We can’t really be apart.”

“What do you mean, exactly?”

“Just that.” Spike shifted his legs to tilt Buffy even closer to him. “We can’t get very far from each other without getting the heebie-jeebies.”

Giles sat down in one of wooden backed dining chairs. “I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”

Buffy finally sat up and turned to look at him. “If I’m not in the same room as Spike I start to panic and my entire body starts to hurt. My stomach ties itself in knots. I feel like I’m going to go completely crazy if I can’t get to him right that second.”

“Yeah, that,” Spike echoed.

“I love him more than my own life, but even I had to eventually admit that it’s not exactly normal, and it’s starting to make everything somewhat difficult. I can’t even imagine lasting an hour in school. My mom’s had to call me in sick the last couple of days. Patrolling is okay, because we can go together.”

“That’s a relief. Is there anything that makes it better?”

Spike looked coy and Buffy felt herself blush.

“I see,” Giles deadpanned. Ms. Calendar was silent, her eyes large. “Do you have any theories?”

Buffy shook her head and Spike shrugged. “I thought the spell, for the soul, might help. Maybe you can do both of us?” Buffy asked.

“That’s actually a great idea.” Ms. Calendar bit her lip. “It does sound like something that might be at that level. Give me a day or two and I’ll come up with a spell that should work. Rupert, can you assist me?”

Giles nodded. “You two better run along home.” He waved a hand towards where Buffy and Spike were gradually winding around each other. “Before Xander isn’t the only one that needs therapy.”


	30. Obsession

With your hand in mine, making love for days

                        -Donny Hathaway, “You Were Meant For Me”

****

Monday’s sucked. No amount of time-travel or mind blowing sex was ever going to alter that fact. This Monday was proving to be extra stupid.

After talking to Giles on Saturday night they’d wandered back to Revello Drive by way of several cemeteries, and had arrived just in time to hear her mom on the phone. Giles had called to let Joyce know what was up with the uber-togetherness, and after some grousing about unfinished chores her mom had agreed that they could stay at the house. Spike had remained very quiet during the whole exchange. After hanging up the phone Joyce had fixed the vampire with a spine-chilling glare.

“No noise complaints,” Joyce had said icily.

“Yes ma’am,” Spike had mumbled, hugging a throw pillow to his chest and keeping his eyes on the corner of the coffee table. Buffy had giggled.

Her mom had shifted her piercing gaze to the Slayer. “It takes two to tango,” she’d said in a clipped tone. Buffy had paled before grabbing Spike’s arm and hauling him out of the living room to work on laundry. Which had led to sex on the washing machine. When she’d confessed she’d never done that before Spike’s smile had been blinding. He liked finding things that were novel for her, things that belonged just to them.  She also had a new appreciation of the spin cycle.

Now it was a bright and cheery Monday morning and Joyce had insisted that Buffy try to go to school. Spike had looked unhappy at the idea, and honestly Buffy expected it to be a failed experiment, but she put a brave face on for her mom. Her backpack felt like it weighed a ton as Buffy slung it on her shoulder. It was like the one textbook and two spiral-bound notebooks inside were trying to anchor her to the floor. She grumbled and hoisted the strap a little higher.

"Have a good day, honey," Joyce said while giving her a quick hug.

"See you later, Mom." Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the circle of Spike's arms. "It's just school," she murmured. "I'll probably be home before you even wake up."

He nuzzled her ear and gave the hem of her skirt a brief tug. "I hope so."

Reluctantly, she trudged through the front door and onto the porch, down the front steps, and out into the sunlight. She turned her head to look over her shoulder. Spike was standing in the doorway, worry clearly evident in his blue eyes. Buffy halted. She needed to go and comfort him, he had nothing to be anxious about. It was just school. She caught herself as she was about to turn around and groaned. He’d be okay. Determination on her face, she took another step, and then another. Three more. She was nearly to the sidewalk that ran in front of her house.

Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears. She looked back again, just another peek. Maybe he’d be better, proud at her fortitude because, seriously, this felt like climbing Everest through quick sand while wearing a scuba suit.

Wide, panicked eyes met hers. He was on the porch, her mom had a hold of his sleeve but he yanked free and moved towards her. He stopped on the top step, his hand gripping white knuckled on the rail. With mounting horror, Buffy watched as he set his jaw and slid one booted foot closer to the next step, which was bathed in sunlight.

“Spike!”  she screamed, and ran. Her backpack fell to the wayside, instantly forgotten. She launched herself into his arms, wrapping her arms and legs securely around him as he stumbled backward, away from the sun’s deadly rays. She was raining kisses on his face, over his beloved cheeks, nose, eyes, and forehead. He was holding her in a vice-like grip, gulping unneeded breaths as he visibly struggled for control.

“I…” His voice was raw. “I…Don’t leave me! Please. Can’t stand it.”

“No, never. Never!” Her lips found his and she poured herself into him through the connection. She needed him, all of him, now. It wasn’t going to be okay until he was inside her, safe. She shifted so one arm was tight around his shoulders while the other dived between their bodies to find his belt. With practiced ease she undid the buckle. Her fingers stroked his hard-on through the fabric of his pants, making him moan into her mouth. The empty ache inside her nearly had her in tears. She moved her hand to the button of his fly.

There was a flabbergasted cry from behind them. “Buffy!”

Her eyes snapped open. Oh…Oh! They were on her porch! Her fingers stilled and she disconnected her mouth from Spike’s. He whimpered in complaint, bucking his hips up against her and placing one hand on the back of her head to try and guide her mouth to his. She looked down into his heavily lidded eyes and became lost in the love and lust there. His lips looked so lush, slightly swollen from their kisses. God, she needed him. With a smile Buffy bent to reclaim his mouth.

“Stop!”

This time when she broke the kiss both her and Spike turned to glance at Joyce. She was standing in the doorway, holding a pitcher of iced-tea that she did not look afraid to use.

“Basement,” Buffy gasped. The vampire nodded and grudgingly set her back on her feet before grabbing her hand and pulling her along as he made a dash past a startled Joyce. His other hand was on his jeans to keep them from ending up around his knees. “Sorry!” Buffy called over her shoulder to her mom. “You should probably go upstairs!”

Spike opened the basement door, hauled her in behind him and reached past her to close it. They were plunged into darkness. Buffy found herself lifted up into strong arms and her back braced against the rough wood of the door.

“Can’t wait,” he gasped against her neck.

Her legs were back around him where they belonged. “Oh, god.” Tears were running down her face. “You could have burned.”

He growled softly, tearing away her underwear.

“I saw it once, can’t again, never again. I love you, I love you!”

Spike nuzzled against her neck and she could feel the bumps and ridges of his demon face. His finger brushed softly over her bared sex.

She grasped the hair on the back of his head. “Listen to me.” Her voice was fierce, and his hand stilled on her. “If you burn; you’re not doing it alone. Understand?”

He remained still under her hands. Very still. Buffy’s breath hitched. Did he think she’d returned to wanting to die? Had she pushed him over a line? She cursed the darkness that prevented her from seeing his eyes. She brought a hand to his cheek, surprised to find wetness there.

Spike’s voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “I love you too, Bess.” His hand fell away from her, only to be replaced a second later by his cock as he surged up inside her. She cried out at the invasion, overwhelmed with sensation. Her lips found his again, the fangs were gone, and she kissed him hungrily. Salt from both their tears flavored their lips.

He was moving in sharp, sure strokes, but she didn’t dare push back against him. Not in the dark with him balanced on the steep basement stairs. Instead she let him lead, happy simply to be with him.

****

Joyce picked the phone up, trying to ignore the relentless banging of the basement door against its frame. She dialed the school and asked to be transferred to the library.

It rang twice before connecting. “Good morning, Sunnydale High Library. Rupert Giles speaking.”

“Mr. Giles, it’s Joyce, Buffy’s mother.”

“Joyce! Is everything okay?”

Joyce sighed. “You’d have to define okay. Look, I’m calling because Buffy won’t be in school today. Can you come up with an excuse, possible one good for multiple days?”

There was a pause. “Is it because of Spike?”

“I’m not sure what you’re implying by that. He’s not holding her hostage if that’s what you mean, but they can’t be separated right now. I just watched him almost walk out into the sunlight to follow her.”

“Dear Lord.”

Joyce rubbed her forehead. “Exactly. Are you any closer to a solution? My nerves are nearly shot.”

“Well, we think we have a diagnostic, uh, spell that should give us some insight. I was thinking tomorrow-“

“No, Mr. Giles. No. Tonight, or I’m sending them to stay at your house and you can put up with tripping over them every two seconds.”

“Well, yes…I’m sure tonight will work.”

Joyce let out a breath she hadn’t even be aware she’d been holding. “Thank you. About the other?”

“I’ll tell the office she has mono and have Willow drop off her assignments for the next week.”

“Perfect.”

“Joyce, are you sure you’re okay?” Giles’ voice was weary.

“Yes, if I’m not driven insane before tonight. Can I ask you a question?”

“I suppose.”

She held the receiver close and glanced around before whispering into it: “How the hell does he go on so long? I’ve been listening to the door bang for a good twenty-five minutes.”

“Uh. Well, I…vampire,” he whispered back. Giles cleared his throat. “We’ll be there tonight.”

“You better.”

****

"How's staring at that problem working for you?" Spike asked his girl. She was currently sitting across the table from him and chewing the eraser off her pencil.

"For your information, another minute or two and it might start waving a white flag."

He snorted. “How about we try something else?”

“Ugh, fine. To be clear, I know for a fact that in the future I don’t have any need to do math problems that involve letters.” She wrinkled her nose in that adorable way of hers and retrieved her English text from her book bag, opening it on the table between them. “Shakespeare’s sonnets.” She tapped the page with the mangled eraser. “I have to pick one and write a one-page response about it.”

“Response?”

“Like how it makes me feel and stuff.”

He briefly closed his eyes. The whole Yank education system was a bloody farce. In his day…bloody hell, in his day they had to walk uphill both ways in the snow. Steller, now he felt ancient. 

Buffy used the pencil to nudge the book towards him. “Will you read one to me?”

He looked down at the page and sighed. “Does it have to be Shakespeare? Would they be okay with Keats or Byron?”

“Shakespeare,” she said firmly. He glanced up at her only to find her with the pencil sideways between her lips, her little pink tongue curling around the barrel. His jeans quickly became uncomfortable as his cock decided what that tongue should actually be put to use for. Her eyes were sparkling. The blasted minx knew exactly what she was doing.

“Fine, I’ll bloody read one to you,” he grumbled. With a happy smile she closed her eyes and leaned back. He knew what she was expecting, but couldn’t resist tweaking her nose a bit, especially when she was still running that damned pencil over her lips. He didn’t see the sonnet he wanted, but he had most of them memorized anyway. He took a deep breath. “Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch- “

Buffy’s eyes popped open. “Hey!” she interrupted.

“What?” he asked, all innocence.

“That wasn’t the one I thought you’d pick.”

Spike smirked at her. “You just said to read one, you didn’t specify which one.”

“Could I persuade you to read me the one I want to hear?” Her lips closed around the pencil and he groaned.

He stood and ran a hand down his stomach, hooking a thumb in a belt loop and making sure her eyes came to rest on what she was doing to him. “Maybe.” He raised an eyebrow at her.

Buffy pushed her own chair back, going to sit on the end of the table. He pushed apart her thighs and ensconced himself in between.

“This is very naughty,” she giggled. “We’re on the table.”

He shrugged. “Make it quick?”

“You read me the right poem and you can make it any way you want.”

He ran his hands up under her skirt, smiling when he felt nothing but her. “No knickers, luv?”

“They just get in the way.”

“Learning from the best, are you?” She smiled shyly. His thumb began a steady massage of her clit and she gasped. “Undo my pants.” Buffy complied quickly, her hot hand wrapping around his hard prick before stilling.

“You absolutely promise you’re going to read it?”

“Don’t need to read it,” he grunted, pushing her down on the table and dragging her ass right to the edge. He lined himself up with one hand and rubbed one pebbled nipple through the fabric of her t-shirt with the other.

He smiled down at her. She was going to be able to write one hell of a response paper. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” He thrust inside her to the hilt. Buffy moaned and arched her back. Her fingers took over playing with her breasts as he moved his hands to her hips to steady her.

“Thou art more lovely and more temperate.” His strokes in and out of her heat were long and languid, as befitted the poem’s tempo. “Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.” Spike jerked a little harder on the word rough, watching as her darling buds did indeed shake. He continued to recite the poem as he worked her. Under him she writhed and clenched her muscles. When he reached the middle it gave him an idea and he smiled wickedly at his girl.

“Be a luv and hand me that, would you?” He gestured at a decanter of olive oil left out from dinner earlier. Rolling her eyes she snagged it and gave it to him.

“Wasn’t this supposed to be quick?”

“I changed my mind.” He stuck his fingers in the oil and reached down to rub it over the tight bud of her ass. She lay back down and took a deep breath, relaxing. He worked first one finger, then two into her ass, while continuing to move his hips in shallow trusts. “Ready?” He asked, pulling out of her pussy and stroking his cock with the fingers that he’d just recoated in oil.

“Oh, yeah,” she moaned, lifting and tilting her pelvis to give him better access. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing in little pants while her heart hammered away. His girl. She was offering up everything she was to him. God, he loved her.

The words found their way to his lips and tongue and teeth. “But they eternal summer shall not fade.” He breached her tight rear passage, gasping as he slowly worked his way inside her. “Nor…Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest.” Fully seated inside her, her legs wrapped around him under his coat, he began to rock slightly. She bit her lip and the muscles of her stomach were tight. She was close.

He settled a hand over her mound and worked her engorged clit with fast strokes. Nearly there, she was hardly breathing.

“Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade.”

She came hard, keening something that was probably his name. He moved faster, harder, watching her face to make sure he wasn’t hurting her. She was restlessly moving her head side to side, her hands tight on his shoulders. “More, I can take more,” she panted.

He gave it to her, pounding her hard enough to scrape the table over the floor while he continued to flick her clit frantically. He didn’t know how he still had a voice. “When in eternal lines to time thou growest.”

Buffy shattered under him again, her hips undulating rapidly, his name a ragged sound on her lips. His own pleasure crashed over him and Spike howled it to the rafters before collapsing forward to lay his head on her cheat. Her heart throbbed beneath his ear as his cock still pulsed slightly inside her.

“So long as men can breathe or eyes can see; So long lives this and this gives life to thee.” 

Buffy hummed softly, her hand running through his hair.

“What is going on here?” A rough male voice boomed through the living room. Spike braced his arms protectively around his girl, glancing up at her startled green eyes before they both turned towards the interloper. A tall, fair haired man loomed in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen. Spike tensed, ready to rip the man to shreds for intruding into the Summers’ household, but Buffy’s hands tightened painfully around his arms.

“Uh, hi Daddy!” Buffy said, smiling at the man while remaining where she was. The duster was covering most everything, as long as they didn’t move they wouldn’t flash…her dad?

Oh, balls. This couldn’t be happening. What could he have possibly done to deserve this? When he’d been human he’d imagined a hundred and one ways he’d greet the father of his intended, the woman he planned to spend his life with. Meeting the bloke with his dick up his daughter’s ass had not been something William had even been capable of envisioning at the time.

“Daddy, can you maybe give us two seconds here?”

The man’s eyes narrowed and he seemed not to hear Buffy’s words. “I got a phone call that you were running around with some guy that was bad news, but this is really beyond the pale. In your mother’s house! Have you no shame?” His hands balled into fists and he turned his gaze to Spike. “And you! You will never even so much as look at her again. How old are you? I’m thinking a few years in a jail cell and maybe you’ll think twice before-“

“Hank Summers!” Joyce’s shrill voice interrupted the tirade. “What are you doing in my house?”

This was just getting better and better, not to mention physically uncomfortable.

“Did you know about this?” Hank demanded.

“I think the neighbors three doors down know about it,” Joyce grumbled. “But there’s a lot more to this story than you know.”

“I shouldn’t need to know anything besides you’re letting my daughter-“

“Your daughter?”

“Stop!” Buffy yelled. “Both of you into the kitchen or the living room, or somewhere so me and Spike can take a couple of seconds to get righted around.”

Hank looked poleaxed. “Spike?” Joyce grabbed his arm and pulled him into the living room. 

As soon as they were out of sight Spike was able to pull back from Buffy, wincing as his softened cock slid free. He quickly tucked himself away and straightened his clothes. Buffy was making a face and wadding up napkins from the table. Silently he held his hand out and she gratefully placed them in his palm. He worked fast to clean her up.

“Angel!” she barked out of nowhere as she stood up.

He groaned. “Is that wanker here too? Because that’d be the bloody icing on the cake.”

“No! I bet that’s who called my dad, though.” She heaved a huge sigh. “I guess I should go talk to him.”

‘What do you want me to do?” He stared at the scuffed toes of his boots.

“What do you mean?”

“This wasn’t how I wanted the first meeting with your dad to go.”

Buffy laughed. “That man in there means almost nothing to me. He abandoned me.” Her voice got low. “When my mom died, he never even called to check up on me.” She leaned against him. “You’re the one that stays, that I can depend on.”

“Going to call me daddy, then?” He waggled his eyebrows at her, just to make her smile, and was rewarded when she laughed again.

“Only if you’re going to give me pony rides.”

“Do I have to wear a bit as well as a saddle?”

“What? Oh my god, that’s not what I meant. Now come on.” She strode into the living room, all piss and vinegar, while he trailed meekly behind. They were greeted by the sight of Joyce, hands on hips, scowling at the front door as it slammed.

She rounded on them. “You two are impossible. I’ve been beyond understanding. Now, after hearing my dining room table rhythmically pounding the wall while you two yowled like cats in heat, I had to defend you to my idiot ex-husband.” She shook her finger under both of their noses. “I bought you a reprieve. Hank agreed to leave and not call the cops tonight, but tomorrow is going to be a different story. He’ll meet us at eleven.” Joyce sighed and rubbed her temple. “I got a call from your Watcher, Buffy. Everyone’s going to be here in a few minutes for some sort of ritual. I suggest you get ready. I’m going to have a glass of wine.” She stormed off towards the kitchen.

Buffy and Spike stared mutely at each other.

Finally, she laid a hand on his arm.  “Spike, would you please go clean out the olive oil container on the table? I’m going to move the furniture.”

“Right. Anything you say, luv.” He paused. “I’m just going to wait until the kitchen’s empty.”

****

Candlelight flickered around the living room.  The furniture had all been moved into other rooms, leaving the floor open. Buffy was in the center with Spike, they were both laying supine, heads next to each other but feet pointing to opposite ends of the room. Herbs mixed with salt had been sprinkled in a circle around them. Her friends marked the cardinal points of the circle: Willow in the east, Xander in the South, Jenny in the West, and Joyce, reluctantly, in the North. Giles stood to the side, book in hand.

“I’m going to close my eyes,” Buffy whispered to Spike.

“Sounds like a plan.” He looked a lot calmer than she felt.

With her eyes screwed tightly closed she let the chanted Latin wash over her. Her skin tingled, not entirely unpleasantly. There was a collective gasp from the others.

Buffy kept her eyes shut, not knowing if was a good gasp or a bad gasp.

“Bess, look,” Spike sounded awed. She risked a peek and her mouth fell open. Above her a shimmering cloud of golden…something, floated. It looked like liquid, flowing and rippling in the dim light. Above Spike a similar cloud hovered, this one silver. Between the two clouds were dozens upon dozens of connections, places were the silver reached out to the gold or where the gold hooked into the silver. “That’s us, Buffy. Us.”

“We’re beautiful.”

Giles was staring, wonder on his face. “Jenny, can you tell us what we’re seeing?”

The dark haired woman rose up on her knees. “I…I think so. It’s a visual representation of their souls, which means Spike, you most definitely have one.” She frowned. “It’s completely a part of you. What I can’t figure out is why there’s so many connections between the two of you.”

“I love her,” Spike offered, a look of consternation on his face. Buffy reached a hand up to smooth his brow. She understood, he was worried her friends wouldn’t believe he could love because of the demon. To be honest Buffy didn’t care what the others thought, she knew the truth. The clouds swirled a little around each other.

Jenny waved a dismissive hand. “Even if you were Romeo and Juliet there should be maybe a dozen links.”

“I’m seeing just a few more.” Xander was twisting his head this way and that, looking at the churning clouds hanging in the middle of the living room.

“I think that’s the problem.” Jenny wrinkled her brow. “But I don’t have an immediate solution.”

“Keep looking up,” Spike whispered in Buffy’s ear. Gently he kissed her. The clouds started swirling together, silver and gold eddying about each other. The kiss deepened and Buffy fought to keep her eye’s on the dizzying swirl over their heads.

Giles coughed into his fist. “Spike, Buffy, might I ask you to remove yourselves to the opposite ends of the circle for a moment. I’d like to see what happens.”

Buffy shot a glare at her Watcher, but did as asked. The clouds swirled apart and the connections stretched as she and the vampire got as far away as possible from each other in the circle. The now familiar unease started in the pit of her stomach. She could only tolerate it for a few seconds before meeting Spike back in the middle of the room. With a contented sigh she crawled into his lap and they sat curled around each other, the representations of their auric selves coalescing into a single, gleaming entity.

Willow picked up a book from beside her. “So how do we fix this?” she asked.

Spike snorted. “We don’t need to be fixed, Red.”

Buffy had her eyes trained on Giles, not Willow. “We need a work around. Absolutely no fixing.” 


	31. Doors

 

Cut myself on angel hair and baby's breath

            -Nirvana, “Heart Shaped Box”

 

****

 

The last ice cube in his soda had melted some time ago. Hank stared into the murky depths of his drink and sighed. Sleep wasn’t on the menu for tonight. Indigestion and guilt were too busy eating at him. He was propped up against the sorry excuse for a headboard of what passed for a bed at the cheap motel he was staying in.

 

It was all his fault. He’d given Joyce her space and deprived his daughter of a strong father figure and now Buffy was…she was…she’d taken up with an undesirable element. God, he’d thought someone had been killing her. He’d just raised his hand to knock on the front door when he’d heard banging and yelling. The front had been locked but he’d hustled around to the back, listening to what sounded like zoo animals fighting. To his relief the knob of the door on the back porch had turned and he’d rushed inside, just in time to watch some guy collapse on top of his daughter. There’d been no question what they’d been up to.

 

Hank’s heartburn flared and made him cough.

 

He should have punched that punk-ass jerk right in the face. And Joyce! Joyce had defended him. And what kind of a name was Spike? Seriously. Well, Spike might think a little differently about seducing sixteen-year-old girls after spending a little quality time in a prison cell. The boy would be real popular with that pretty face of his. That he should have punched. Only Hank had the sneaking suspicion that Spike probably would have hit back a whole lot harder than he could.

 

Scratching his chest Hank stood and stretched. He grabbed the plastic ice bucket from the rickety wooden nightstand and made sure he had his room key. The door banged closed behind him as he made his way beneath the buzzing florescent lights to the ice machine. He filled the bucket, popped a cube in his mouth to chew, and returned to his room. The key grated in the lock and the hinges of the door squeaked as he entered. He walked to the bed but there was no thud of the door shutting behind him. Something like dread awoke in the pit of his stomach.

 

Turning, Hank’s eyes fell on the heavy black boot wedged between the door and the frame. With a casual flick the opening widened and to Hank’s disbelief that man that’d been defiling his daughter sauntered in. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips and was patting down the pockets of the black leather coat that hung from his shoulders.

 

“What do think you’re doing?” Hank sputtered.

 

The man shrugged a shoulder. “You got a light?”

 

“No and…and you can’t just come in here!”

 

“Sure I can. It’s not like you own the place.” Spike slipped the cigarette behind his ear. “Figured I’d save us all some time tomorrow and get this settled right now. I don’t fancy you setting Buffy and Joyce any more on their ears than you already have.”

 

The idiot was wearing the most infuriated smirk. It was making Hank’s blood boil. “Now listen here, young man.” One of Spike’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “I know you have my ex-wife and daughter cowed, but you can’t fool me. You’re nothing but an useless waste of space.”

 

“Look, mate, I’m just here to make sure that you have a good long think about the kind of relationship you want to have with your daughter.” Spike started pacing back and forth in the narrow room.  “Are you going to be there on her birthday? Are you going to be making those child support payment? Either you’re in or you’re out. Are you the kind of man that takes care of his responsibilities or are you the kind whose daughter could die and you’d be none the wiser?”

 

“Excuse me?” Was this Spike trying to threaten him? “And what kind of man are you?”

 

Spike chuckled. “Me? The kind that’s been listening to your daughter unpack every piece of bloody father related baggage that she has for the last couple of hours. I figure I’m in for at least a couple of weeks of being called ‘daddy’.” Hank’s jaw dropped and Spike looked sideways at him. “Leastways, I’m not the sort to lock my own flesh and blood up in the mad house.”

 

“You know nothing about that! She was spouting all kinds of nonsense about vampires and demons!” Who did this moron think he was to judge his actions as a parent? Buffy had been better after her time in the hospital, all those delusions gone.

 

The man’s smirk turned into a grin. “Maybe you should have done your homework first.”  Hank stopped breathing as Spike’s face shifted before his eyes. The last remains of his heartburn disappeared as his whole body was bathed in icy terror. The creature cocked its head at him, fangs garish in the blinking neon light of the hotel sign that was filtering through the window.

 

Hank backed into a wall, panting: “What are you?”

 

“He’s a vampire.” Both men turned to look at Buffy, who was standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. “Are you quite done scaring my father?” She walked over to the monster and put a hand on his chest. The frightening visage melted away as the vampire smiled down at his daughter. Hank had no idea what he was supposed to do.

 

“Yeah, guess so.” Spike tucked a strand of hair behind Buffy’s ear. “What are you doing here, luv?”

 

“Did you really think you could get all the way over here without me at the moment?”

 

The vampire shook his head ruefully. “I guess not. I thought maybe because you were asleep…or, sod, it, I wasn’t thinking at all. ”

 

“I was following you the whole way, dummy. You were too busy talking to yourself to even notice.” Buffy leaned against him. “I let you have your fun, but I’m ready to go home now, okay?” Spike dropped his head to rub against her shoulder. Hank was dumbstruck. There were vampires. His daughter was sleeping with one. A monster that clearly adored her.  As soon as Buffy had walked into the motel room the tense atmosphere had evaporated as the creature had turned all his attention squarely onto her. 

 

“Buffy?” Hank tentatively asked.

 

Spike growled, but his daughter shushed him and kissed the creature lightly on the lips. “Just give me two seconds.”  She walked over to Hank, took one of his hands, and clasped it between her own. “Dad, I appreciate you showing up because you were worried about me, but I’m fine. I don’t need your help and I think I don’t I need you in my life. I love you, I know you love me, but I can’t be waiting for you to remember me and drop me a postcard whenever you feel like it.”

 

Hank was floored. He remembered holding her as a tiny baby, so proud. Other images, of skinned knees, a first bike ride, sitting together at the ice show, Buffy hugging a stuffed pig he’d bought her. Only there weren’t as many memories as there should be, he’d always been so busy with work. His family had been second for a long time.

 

“I understand,” he said roughly. “And it’s what I deserve. I pushed you and Joyce away a long time ago. I shouldn’t be surprised you’d do the same now. I’m sorry, Buffy.” His daughter hugged him.

 

“Goodbye, Dad,” she whispered in his ear. Buffy stepped away from him. With a sad smile she slipped her hand into the vampire’s and walked out of the door and out of his life. It was Spike that paused to look back at him. There was sympathy in his eyes.

 

Unexpected tears threatened to choke Hank. “Take care of her.”

 

The vampire nodded once and was gone. The thin door rattled in its frame as it banged shut.

 

 

****

 

Buffy was relieved to have things settled with her father. It’d been weird to see him, but he’d been absent from her life for so long that her emotions were not as jumbled as they could have been. This time she’d been the one to leave. To put the period at the end of the sentence that was her relationship with her father.

 

Now she was feeling ridiculously normal as she strolled down the street hand-in-hand with her boyfriend. Except it was way late at night, her boyfriend was a vampire, and she was a time traveling Slayer, but, heck, she was enjoying it anyway. It was such a simple pleasure to walk next to someone you love in companionable silence. Only Spike wasn’t very good at being quiet so that part was probably on a countdown. Buffy frowned, she had something to talk to him about, too. Her mind had been racing a mile a minute for hours and she was sure she’d finally worked it out.

 

No reason to keep it to herself.

 

“Spike?”

 

“Yeah, kitten?”

 

She bit her lip. “I have something I need to talk to you about.”

 

“Ah, so many great conversations have started that way.”

 

“Ugh, I’m serious.” Tightening her hand in his she pulled him into a park they were passing. There were benches, but she led him over to the rusty metal merry-go-round instead. They both sat on the edge and Buffy pulled her knees up and scooted back as Spike pushed at the ground with one foot, sending them into a lazy, slow spin.

 

“So, what’s up?” He laid back, eyes on the stars overhead and hands interlaced behind his head.

 

“I’ve been thinking about a lot of things.” She cringed, that was a horrible start. She rushed on before he could make a snarky comment. “Spike, why do you love me?”

 

The vampire frowned. “What kind of question is that? Did I forget to tell you you’re the most beautiful creature on earth today?”

 

“I’m not fishing for compliments.” She smiled and ran a hand over his chest. “Though thank you. I’m just genuinely curious, because I have a theory and your answers are part of it.”

 

“Mmm, well. I don’t know exactly. I love the culmination of everything that you are. I can’t deny I find you physically attractive with all that shiny blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, and perky…well, everything.” Buffy rolled her eyes at him, but moved her hand lower, making circles low down on his belly. “But there’s a lot of other things, like how kind you are, that you’re a good friend, that you fight for what’s right but that you enjoy doing it, revel in a good brawl. I really could go on forever.”

 

“I know, Spike being good with the talky, like always.” Her hand stilled and she leaned forward to kiss him briefly, before pulling back just enough to run her eyes over his beloved face. “So, how long have you loved me?” His lips quirked as he appeared to be attempting to do the math. “I’m not looking for the exact number of hours. How long does it feel like?”

 

He answered without hesitation. “Forever. I’ve loved you forever.”

 

She couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips. Deep inside her there was a pinprick of pain. Once she would have punished him for those words: broken his nose, cut him down with words. Denied what he offered so willingly. God, she’d been a fool. The string of events leading to this moment seemed so fragile. One thing different and she wouldn’t be here. She sniffed back her tears and kissed him again, melted against him. At last she had to come up for breath. “I love you too,” she whispered.

 

He reached for her, but she straddled him and guided both his hands back behind his head. “I want to tell you a story.” He nodded. She slid down until she was sitting on his thighs and squeezed his semi-erect cock through the fabric of his jeans. “There was a time when Willow thought the best way to handle the problems I was having with being taken out of heaven was to make me forget that I’d ever been there.”  She undid his belt and fly, and he flexed his hips up so she could pull his jeans down just enough to free his dick. Wrapping her hand around his shaft she slowly pumped him, adoring the way his cock lengthened and hardened in her grip.

 

Spike’s voice was hoarse. “That doesn’t sound like a great idea.”

 

Oh, right, her story. “It wasn’t. We all forgot a lot more than just the fact that I’d been in heaven. Giles, Willow, Xander, me, you, we couldn’t even remember our names.” Spike’s cold fingers were under her skirt, rubbing her clit through the fabric of her panties. No underwear was all well and good, but she’d had the feeling Spike was headed to confront her dad and she did have a few limits.

 

“So what happened?”

 

Buffy took a deep breath. “We were attacked by vampires.”

 

“Ah.”

 

She lifted up and Spike hooked the crotch of her cotton panties out of the way so she could work the swollen head of his cock into her pussy. Once he was situated she sank completely down on him and they both groaned. She set a rocking rhythm, not wanting to rush. The merry-go-round was still spinning, the world in motion around them, but she keep her eyes fixed on his face. “We weren’t ourselves and you didn’t want to bite me and I didn’t stake you. In fact, we still fought together, side by side.”

 

“I can believe that.” His eyes were dark and heavily lidded, focused on her. She moved her hips a little faster.

 

“Even without your memories, you were still mine.” The last word came out as a low growl. She was losing control, squeezing him hard with her inner muscles as she rode him. “You still loved me.”

 

Spike was panting softly, pushing up against her each time she moved downwards. “I can’t…imagine…doing anything else.”

 

“Exactly. What does your spark say?” Buffy leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest.

 

He frowned. “I don’t know. It hasn’t felt like a separate part of me for a couple days now.” He bucked up hard into her and she moaned. “As I said, I just can’t believe I’d do anything but love you, no matter what.”

 

Coherent thought was getting to be harder to hold onto as the muscles in her abdomen started to tighten. “Spike, I…oh, baby…I think you’re as much of a ghost as I am.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I think you are your future self, as much as I am, just without your memories. It would explain a lot.”

 

“Like?” he grunted. She smiled, she’d reduced him to single syllables.

 

“Like…” she trailed off. “Oh, god. Oh!” She lost her train of thought as her orgasm caught her. “Spike!” Her hands clutched at his chest and he stilled as she rode out the waves of pleasure.

 

“That’s my good girl.”

 

She was gasping for breath. It took her a few minutes before she could start rolling her hips again. Spike still had his hands where she’d put them behind his head, and was wearing a smug look.

 

“You were saying?”

 

“Uh…Oh, it would explain things like how leaving Drusilla wasn’t a big, huge a deal for you, because you’d already mourned that relationship.”

 

Spike frowned and unclasped his hands, settling them on her hips to driver her down harder against him. “Don’t want to talk about Dru right now.”

 

“Me either. I still have jealousy issues.”

 

He smiled, genuinely delighted by her admission.

 

“But, it also explains…oh, just like that!” Buffy whimpered. He was rocking his hips, making it so he was grinding against her clit. “It explains why you aren’t all guilt ridden with the soul. You’ve already made your peace with it and worked through the being crazy part. I could probably come up with more examples.”

 

“No need. Just come.”

 

Her hips lost the rhythm and she simply undulated frantically before exploding again, the walls of her pussy tightening to strangle his shaft.

 

“Oh, my good girl. Love you so much, Bess. I love you, I love you, I…” He groaned loudly and jerked up, deep inside her, cock pulsing as he emptied himself into her.  Buffy leaned forward to snuggle against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. Blissful minutes crept by with no sound but the creak of the merry-go-round as it continued to turn.

 

Without warning it jolted to a halt and a woman’s voice scolded them: “This is unbelievable! Buffy, what do you think you’re doing?”

 

“Oh good, Kendra.” Buffy sat upright, Spike’s cock still inside her.

 

Beneath her the vampire had thrown his arm over his eyes. “Make her and the stick up her ass go away,” he whined.

 

“This is a public place! You can’t do…that…in the middle of a park!”

 

Spike sighed. “Good lord, she’s the sodding morality police now.”

 

Buffy smiled tightly at the other girl. “We were just leaving, okay?”

 

“Actually.” Kendra glanced nervously over her shoulder. “I need your help.”

 

Something in the other girl’s voice made Buffy realize it was a Slayer issue. Spike had grasped that as well and was urging her up. She lifted off him just far enough so that he could get his dick back in his pants and his fly closed while her skirt provided a screen. Seconds later both were on their feet and scanning their surroundings.

 

“What happened?” Buffy asked as she pushed her Slayer senses outwards, but coming up empty handed.

 

Kendra looked like she might cry. “I don’t know, exactly. I was patrolling, there was a woman, a police officer. She yelled ‘Slayer’ and when I turned she fired her gun. It chipped the headstone next to me and I ran. She’s been chasing me in her car since then. I keep thinking I lose her and then she finds me again.”

 

Buffy scowled. “It’s the Order of Taraka. Obviously whoever sent them didn’t know there’d be two Slayers.”

 

“What do we do? I think she’s human.” Kendra had started shaking like a leaf.

 

“There,” Spike growled. Pointing to where a police car had pulled up to the curb at the far end of the block.

 

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Buffy relaxed, making sure she appeared calm and confident for Kendra’s sake. “Me and Kendra will lead her towards those trees there. Spike, you slip around behind her and knock the gun out of her hand. Try not to get shot.”

 

“Thanks ever so for the lovely advice.”

 

She rolled her eyes at him. “We’ll get her incapacitated, cuffed, and toss her in the back of the police car. We can radio the station and tell them where she is. She’s impersonating an officer at the very least and more than likely killed one to get the car and uniform. She might escape from custody, but it’s probably better than any of us killing her, in case she really is human.”

 

“That’s actually a good plan.” Kendra’s praise was grudging, but Buffy smiled anyway.

 

It was easier to do than Buffy had anticipated. The woman had focused almost solely on Kendra, not realizing a much more experienced Slayer and vampire were now helping the girl out until it was too late.

 

Buffy slammed the door of the police car with relish. Seeing the assassin had reminded her that she’d missed career day at school. Had Willow met Oz? Would they still get together since Oz wouldn’t be taking a bullet for her?

 

It’d been days since she’d even really talked to Willow or Xander. Some friend she was turning out to be. Surely Jenny and Giles would get everything straightened out soon and Buffy could return to school. She missed her friends.

 

While Spike and she walked Kendra back to Giles’ apartment, Buffy did her best to engage the other Slayer in conversation. It was just so difficult when Spike was there with his eyes, and his arms, and his chest, and all his other parts.

 

Buffy had to ask Kendra to repeat things so many times the girl probably thought she was brain damaged.

 

****

 

Sunrise wasn’t that far off by the time the vampire and Slayer made it back to Revello drive.

 

Spike trailed behind his girl as she walked up the stairs. He meant to avoid the squeaky spot on the eighth step but he was too busy watching Buffy’s behind wiggle and ended up putting his foot right on it. The resulting creak echoed through the entire house and had the Slayer whipping around, gaze accusing.

 

“Uh, sorry,” he offered. She rolled her eyes and pressed a finger to her slightly pouted lips in silent admonishment. His prick woke back up at the sight. Not that the damn thing ever particularly went to sleep around Buffy. In front of the door to the bathroom she stopped and Spike let himself accidently bump into her.

 

"I'm going to have a quick shower. You go get comfy and I’ll be there in just a few.” Her voice was a barely there whisper. His mind was stuck on the image of a naked and soapy Slayer, beads of water running down her breasts.

 

“How about I help with the getting clean part?” he purred, resting one hand on the curve of her hip.

 

Buffy’s eyes widened and something that he could have sworn was fear flashed deep within them. “Uh, I’m really tired and I’ll be right there okay?” She stepped into the bathroom and closed the door in his face. Spike stood there, reeling. Buffy had been afraid.

 

Of him.

 

She was never scared. The chit had less fear than a rabid hell hound. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Christ, he needed her, needed to understand. He wrapped his hand around the door knob and froze. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to not go in there, that it was more important than anything right now that he leave her alone.

 

 He dropped his hand away from the handle like it’d burned him and made a beeline for her room. He undressed quickly and slipped between the sheets. His back was to the doorway when Buffy entered a few moments later, true to her word that she wouldn’t take long. She climbed into the bed next to him.

 

“Spike?” Her hand was warm on his back. “Are you awake?”

 

He rolled over and she reached for him. Not daring so much as to blink he looked deep into her eyes. They were forest green in the dark, but free of any traces of fear or confusion.

 

“I love you,” he said, desperate to hear the words.

 

“I love you, too.” She snuggled against him and was asleep a moment later. He held her, his thoughts a scattered mess.

 

****

 

A loud knock startled Buffy awake. She was vaguely uncomfortable, stretched out on the couch on her side, and plastered against Spike. They’d been watching something brainless on TV and the exhaustion from last night had finally caught up with them.

 

She’d only slept an hour or so after her shower before Spike had woken her up and tumbled them to the floor. He’d spent ages worshiping and making love to every inch of her, until even the inside of her eyelids, the space between her second and third toes, and her left pinky nail had felt adored and sated. He’d said very little besides an endless litany about how much he loved her, that he’d never leave her, and that he’d never, ever hurt her. It’d been sweet and a little on the overwhelming side.

 

There was no telling how long he would have gone on if her stomach hadn’t started a persistent growling. He’d pulled her upright and helped her dress, then insisted on carrying her down to the kitchen. Her mom had already gotten up and gone to work, leaving a note to call her when and if Hank showed up. Spike had made her scrambled eggs and toast which he’d then proceeded to feed her by hand. She had no idea what had gotten into him, but if holding squares of buttered toast while she took bites made him happy, Buffy saw no reason to complain.

 

The knock sounded again and Spike’s eyes opened, but he didn’t move and his arm remained securely wrapped around her.  The crocheted afghan that usually hung over the back of the sofa had been spread out over top of them. She wondered if Spike or her mom had been the one to do it.  The TV was on the Discovery channel and the announcer was rambling on about the mating habits of the West African Giraffe.

 

It felt good to be this close to Spike, chest to chest, legs intertwined, her nose against the notch at the base of his throat. She sighed against him, reassured by his nearness. Then, in a heartbeat, her stomach dropped and it wasn’t enough. Why couldn’t the whole world and all its problems disappear? She needed his taste, was desperate to have him inside her. Spike must have gotten the same flash of longing because his hand cupped her cheek and guided her mouth to his.

 

Buffy became lost in the sensations of soft lips on hers, the hard probe of his tongue into her mouth, the slight vibration as he moaned. There were things happening around her: she thought she heard the front door open and her mother’s voice, but it was all so far away and unimportant. Her fingers were in his hair, her eyes closed. His hand drifted from her back to her ass, anchoring them together as she slowly started to roll her hips.

 

The unwelcomed touch of a rough warm hand on her shoulder and Giles’ voice nearly yelling in her ear made her jump.  “Buffy!” he yelped as he went tumbling backwards over the coffee table, his hand on his stomach where she’d inadvertently elbowed him in her surprise. Spike roughly pushed her down flat on her back as he covered her body protectively with his. He was vamped out, fangs bright as he snarled.

 

“I told you not to touch them,” Joyce sighed. She bent down to help the Watcher up and Buffy turned back to Spike.

 

She brushed a hand over his face. “Shh, it’s okay, baby.” Under her touch the ridges receded and his eyes turned back to blue. It was with great difficulty that she broke her gaze away and pulled herself up to a sitting position. Spike had his arms around his knees and was more crouching than sitting next to her.

 

A confused-looking Giles was standing next to her mom, and a shocked Jenny Calendar was hovering in the foyer, holding a large book in her arms. Joyce was agitatedly tapping a clear plastic bottle against her hip.

 

“Is that the plant mister?” Buffy asked her mom.

 

“Yes.” The tone was clipped. “I told Mr. Giles not to touch you. I suggested we all go out on the back porch with a glass of lemonade and chat for a while, but he just had to talk to you right away.”

 

Buffy turned beet red from the inference. Her mom, Watcher, and teacher would have been going outside to let Spike and her screw on the couch. God, she’d really been putting her mother through a lot lately. She and Spike were going to be doing a lot of chores to make up for it whenever they figured out a way to get things slightly less demanding between them.

 

Joyce shrugged. “I said,” her mom glared at her Watcher, “to hang on a second, only you couldn’t be bothered to listen to me, could you?” Giles was still rubbing his stomach and avoiding eye contact with her mother.

 

Buffy eyed the mister in her mom’s hands. “Were you going to…spray us?”

 

“Seemed like a good idea.”

 

She couldn’t help it, she laughed. Spike was chuckling nervously beside her. “I’m sorry, Joyce,” he rumbled. Buffy knew him well enough to know he was more embarrassed than she was, if that was possible. “Don’t mean to…we just get carried away, yeah? Don’t recognize where or when we are. We’re not trying to be rude.” His fingers found Buffy’s under the blanket and gripped them tightly.

 

“I’m not mad,” Joyce said with a shake of her head. “But it is getting a little old.” She turned to look at Ms. Calendar. “So I’m guessing you have an idea?”

 

“Actually, yes.” Ms. Calendar sat down cross-legged beside the coffee table and thumped the heavy book she was holding down on top of it. Buffy frowned at the very familiar title: ‘Vampyr’.  “I was up most of the night making phone calls to anyone and everyone I could think of that might have some insight, and at last tracked down an Australian woman that is more or less an expert on interdimensional or cross-time travel. She nearly hung up on me when I introduced myself and said that I was dealing with two people who were together.” Jenny paused to take a breath.

 

Buffy curled her legs under her and leaned against Spike. “Why would she hang up on you?”

 

“Because it should be impossible.”

 

The vampire shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve never been very good at doing what I’m supposed to.” Buffy smiled at him and gave his hand a brief squeeze.

 

“Once I convinced her I wasn’t making things up she got very interested in what I had to say. I’ll spare you the gory details and give you the Reader’s Digest version. In order for you both to end up in the same place at the same time you would have had to be connected somehow during the trip in the time stream. Do you remember anything from the journey, Buffy?” Ms. Calendar was nervously drumming her fingers on the cover of the old book.

 

Her mom, Giles, and even Spike were all staring at her and Buffy gulped. “It’s all really muddled. Willow was there to guide me, but she left, or pulled away, before I completed the trip.” She screwed her eyes closed and tried to make sense of the riot of jumbled images and thoughts that were all that was left of her jaunt back through time. “Willow left, I remember that, and then I have an image: taking someone’s hand in mine, our fingers interlacing.” Under the blanket Spike’s hand clamped hers tightly.

 

“That makes sense.” Jenny said slowly. “You and Spike linked up in the time stream. The physics involved went right over my head, but the gist is that since it operates at a subatomic level you two are essentially involved in a quantum entanglement.”

 

Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Can we go back to the Reader’s Digest version? I really don’t have the math for this.”

 

Giles chuckled. “What Jenny is saying is that at the most basic level of existence you’re not two entirely separate beings. What’s been happening to you lately is the increasing strident demands of physics trying to match visible reality up with how things are at an atomic level.”

 

“The entanglement is why, when I looked at your souls, they were connected in so many places. It’s really very unique.” Ms. Calendar had focused a speculative glance on Spike and Buffy.

 

The vampire snorted. “While it sounds quite exciting to be part of this little science experiment, the reality is that my girl needs to be able to get her education. And it’d be nice to be able to leave the house without worrying you might involuntarily put on a show in the neighbor’s azalea bed.”

 

“What?” Joyce puffed. “That was you?” Both Spike and Buffy suddenly found the pattern of the afghan very interesting. “We thought the Labrador that keeps getting out of its yard had been digging in it. You need to go apologize to that old woman.”

 

Buffy bit her lip. “Erm, and say what, exactly?”

 

“Let’s focus for a moment,” Giles was rubbing a hand over his temple. “Jenny and I believe we know what will, well…it won’t return you to normal, so to speak, but it would keep you out of other people’s gardens.”

 

“Do tell.” Spike pulled their entwined hands out from under the blanket and tenderly brushed a kiss over Buffy’s knuckles.

 

Ms. Calendar slipped her finger in between the pages of the ‘Vampyr’ tome, next to an ad for a pizza place that was acting as a book mark. “Just so we’re clear, there’s no way to undo the connection.”

 

“Good,” Buffy and Spike said simultaneously.

 

“It’s too tightly woven at too minute a level,” Jenny continued. “However, the individual strands are, for lack of a better term, untidy. It’s like a big, tangled skein of yarn. Our solution is to untangle it, to provide order to the link between you.”

 

Buffy wrinkled her forehead. It made sense. A string of Christmas lights was much longer after it was straightened out than when it was in knots from being in a box all year. “So how do we do this untangling?”

 

“Easier than you might expect.” Jenny flipped open the big book with a flourish. “All you guys need to do is claim each other.”

 

Beside her Spike started. He shook his head and took several ragged breaths. “Don’t screw with me, Watcher. I can’t take it if you’re saying that to bloody well mess with my head. You have to know how badly I’d want that, how often I’ve dreamed of it.” The vampire’s voice was harsh, laden with emotion.

 

“I know Spike.” Giles was looking sympathetically at the vampire. “I figured you wouldn’t object to it, and despite what you may think, I’m not here to toy with you.”

 

Spike frantically shook his head. Buffy had no idea what was going on, only that Giles’ words had thrown her vampire for a loop. Spike pressed her hand to his heart and turned eyes full of love, hope and expectation on her. She could only meet his gaze with confusion. What were they talking about? His face fell. “Buffy? I…oh, god…you don’t want…” He let go of her hand and shot to his feet, swaying. “I have to…” He trembled.

 

Buffy’s heart was beating a tattoo against her chest. Spike looked panicked, a trapped animal unable to flee. She stood too and grabbed his wrist, curling her fingers around him in a vice-like grip to keep him from bolting. Jenny and Giles were staring at her with shock on their faces. Her mom was looking back and forth between her and Spike, appearing as confused as she was.

 

“Wait! Spike, stop!” He’d begun to try and pry her fingers off him. Tears were now running down his cheeks. “Stop! Guys!” She was yelling now, freaked out by how rapidly everything was happening.

 

“Let go, you bloody bint!” Spike snarled at her and in surprise at his brutal tone she dropped his wrist. He whirled away from her, tensed as if to run, but instead dropped to his knees on the floor, shoulders shaking and his head in his hands.

 

Buffy’s voice was shrill with terror: “What the hell’s a claim?”


	32. Forever

I can see how far we've come

            -Gin Blossoms, “Follow You Down”

 

****

“What’s a claim?” Buffy asked again, trying to control the tremor in her voice.

 

Spike had stilled. Slowly he stood and turned to face her. His cheeks were still wet with tears. “You don’t know what a claim is?” he asked softly. She shook her head. His jaw set and the little muscle there started ticking. He whirled on Giles, eyes flashing amber. “What the bloody hell have you been teaching her, Watcher?”

 

Giles was unimpressed with Spike’s show of anger. Her Watcher pinched the bridge of his nose and gave an exasperated sigh. “Don’t blame me. I’ve gone over all vampiric rituals with her, more than once. It’s entirely not my fault if she doesn’t remember.”

 

“Woah, wait. Giles, I’ve never heard of a claim before in my life. I know I can be dense but I’m not exactly stupid.” She was watching Spike as he struggled with himself. Obviously this claim thing was a huge deal to him and she’d managed to completely send him over the edge by being ignorant of it.

 

Giles heaved another sigh. “We discussed it at the start of the school year, remember you teased me about being nervous because of the-” He held up his fingers and made air quotes. “‘Sex stuff’ that was a part of it?”

 

She blinked. “Giles, that wasn’t me.”

 

Her Watcher lowered his arms, letting them hang limply at his sides. “Quite right.” He finally said, in a voice that was a little off.

 

“Buffy.” Ms. Calendar was pushing the heavy ‘Vampyr’ tome towards her. “It’s in the book.” She tapped the page she’d opened to earlier.

 

“No,” Buffy said. “It isn’t.”

 

Jenny looked down at the page and frowned. “Yes, it’s right here.”

 

“No.” Buffy said again. “You don’t understand. After Sunnydale became a giant crater that book was one of the very few things that made it out. Why the hell it was on that bus is beyond me. Anyway, I poured over it, reading it again and again, trying to find something, anything, that’d bring…” She swallowed hard and looked at Spike. He was standing there, arms crossed, an unreadable look on his face.

 

She started to reach for him but remembered that a minute ago she’d been hurting him and that he’d snapped at her to let him go. Her hand stalled and she plopped back down on the couch. Her eyes fell on the book. “I can prove it to you. The section that starts on page thirty-three talks about substances that are poisonous to vampires and how to cure them.”

 

Jenny kept a finger in between the pages to mark the part that talked about claims and flipped to page thirty-three, near the start of the book. “She’s right.”

 

Buffy continued, dully: “Page 457 talks about a rumored ritual to remake a vampire from its ashes. Only you can’t be missing any, not a single speck. Those ashes can’t be blowing around the bottom of a giant crater.” She hiccupped as she choked back a sob. Spike sat down beside her and carefully put a hand on her back. The pages of the book fluttered as Ms. Calendar flipped through them.

 

“Are you okay, Bess?” Spike asked softly next to her ear.

 

“No.” She held her arms out to him, like she was a child. He quickly pulled her onto his lap and settled her against him with a relieved sigh. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled into his chest.

 

His fingers tangled in her hair as he massaged her scalp. “For what?”

 

“I hurt you!”

 

“I’m not following, luv.”

 

Jenny was turning back and forth between two sets of pages.

 

“I grabbed your wrist and I hurt you.” Her mind was running away with her, replaying scene after scene when she’d physically…abused him. She could admit it to herself, but she couldn’t fix it. God, she never wanted to hurt him, ever, and she’d done it almost without thinking.

 

Spike was frowning. “Oh, I just…no…I thought you didn’t want me. That was pain. Don’t remember you harming my arm any.”

 

Huh? Now she was even more confused. Not want him? She could barely breathe for wanting him. “Spike, why the hell would you think I wouldn’t want you?”

 

His arms tightened around her. “It’s one thing to love someone and desire them, it’s another thing entirely to hitch yourselves to them magically for the rest of…well, forever.” It felt like he was getting ready to flee again: every muscle was tense, his eyes were darting around the room, and one knee was jiggling.

 

Hitch? She opened her mouth to ask him to explain but Jenny interrupted.

 

“Well, you’re close.” Ms. Calendar looked up from the book. “It’s page 459, not 457.”

 

Buffy drew her brows together. Everyone was seriously underestimating the amount of time she’d spent reading the stupid thing. “No, I know it’s 457.”

 

Jenny opened the book up again, to the section describing claims, and pointed to it. “The part describing claiming rituals and how the claim itself manifests is two pages long. Could it have been removed in your timeline?”

 

“I don’t think so.” Buffy shook her head. “That wouldn’t have changed the page numbers. Also, I’m a hundred percent sure that even if Giles had never mentioned it to me that something would have spilled out of Spike’s mouth about it sooner or later.” She looked up into his worried eyes and stroked his cheek with one hand. “Let me read this okay? The word ‘claim’ makes me think of those little escalators at the airport, and I’m pretty sure that’s not what it means.” Spike’s lips twitched faintly before he nodded his assent.

 

Buffy slipped from his lap to sit cross-legged on the floor between his knees. Pulling the tome over to her she began to read. She made it halfway through the first page before the tears started falling.  It was almost too much. Being linked so she’d always know where he was and that he was okay, or if he needed help. They would be able feel each other’s emotions, so no more freak outs because she said the wrong thing. There was even a chance they’d eventually be able to speak to each other telepathically through the claim. That’d be handy. She wouldn’t age, he wouldn’t be vulnerable to staking.

 

She’d never be alone; he’d never feel unloved.

 

The words blurred and she couldn’t go any further.

 

“Bess?” Spike touched her shoulder.

 

Awkwardly, Buffy clambered to her knees and turned to wrap her arms around Spike’s waist and bury her face against his chest. He held her as she sobbed, his cheek pressed against the top of her head.

 

“I believe she got the gist of it,” Giles said quietly from behind her.

 

“The rest is mostly examples and rumors, she can review it later.” Ms. Calendar was using the kind of hushed tones usually reserved for church.

 

“I still don’t know what this claim business is.” Her mom’s voice was somewhat less deferential.

 

Buffy started to answer but Spike hushed her. “Watcher can explain it.”

 

She couldn’t hear what Giles said to her mom, but Joyce’s response was clear. “Marriage? They have to get married?”

 

“It’s rather more complicated than that, but yes, it’s very similar to a marriage.” Giles sounded wary.

 

There was a pause. “Will they have a wedding?” Joyce asked hopefully.

 

“Time is rather an issue, the claim needs to happen as soon as possible. I’m not sure we can wait for a wedding,” Giles hedged.

 

“Couldn’t be official anyway,” Spike said. “I don’t have any papers for a license.”

 

Buffy turned so she could see her mother. Joyce was waving her hand. “That part doesn’t matter. My daughter should have a wedding.”

 

“I can officiate a Wiccan handfasting,” Jenny offered. “That might work better than the traditional set of vows.”

 

Buffy looked up at Spike, who was wearing a bemused smile. “Women,” he muttered. “What do you want, luv?”

 

Emotions she thought she’d consigned to the grave a long time ago bubbled up inside her. That night, that wonderful night, when she’d been engaged to Spike. The wedding they’d planned. This wouldn’t be anything on the scale of they’d been discussing, but she still wished she had the notebook they’d filled with ideas, in case there was anything that would work. Maybe they could still dance to Bette Midler?

 

“Please?” she whispered.

 

“Then I guess we’re getting married.” He nipped at her ear, making her giggle.

 

Giles sighed. “There’s still the issue of time.”

 

Buffy stood up, only to have Spike pull her onto his lap. “Tomorrow night, right at sunset,” she begged. “Please, Giles.” Her Watcher looked like he might be wavering. “Would you be willing to give me away?” She felt Spike chuckle against her neck.

 

Giles stood up straighter. “Why, yes, of course. I’d be delighted to.”

 

“It’s settled then. Tomorrow night my baby’s getting married!” Joyce was grinning. It faltered and she gasped. “There’s so much to do. Buffy! You need to call Willow!”

 

The implications hit her. “I don’t have anything to wear!”

 

Jenny stood up, the ‘Vampyr’ book back in her arms. “Buffy, I still don’t understand why you didn’t know about claims.”

 

Buffy snuggled closer to her vampire. It was a very good question. She truly believed that claims simply hadn’t existed where she’d come from. They couldn’t have, she would have known and would have been absolutely obsessed with the idea after Spike had died.

 

Claims hadn’t existed.

 

They were everything she wanted.

 

Buffy started laughing. She clung to Spike and laughed and laughed.

 

“You okay there?” Spike asked, eyebrow raised.

 

“Yes. Oh, yes. I just figured it out.”

 

Giles had his glasses off, but was just holding them. “Do enlighten the rest of us.”

 

She took a deep breath. “When I was first sent here I was convinced that the Powers that Be must hate me. Why wouldn’t they let me die? But this claim thing, that absolutely did not exist where I came from? It’s my present. Don’t you see? It’s my gift, my thank you!”

 

Buffy cupped Spike’s cheek in her palm, smiled up into his brilliant blue eyes. “You’re my gift.” She leaned forward and his lips met hers, and everything else faded away.

 

Until Giles cleared his throat and Joyce set the mister bottle down hard on the coffee table.

 

Her mom’s voice would have made Caesar quail. “Everyone, it’s time to plan a wedding.”

 

****

 

It’d been almost morning before Buffy had begged off from the incessant wedding preparations to get a few hours of rest. Spike had followed her upstairs, and they were lying spent and almost asleep in each other’s arms.

 

“Bess,” Spike whispered, drawing the back of two fingers down her cheek. “I just realized I didn’t ask.”

 

“Ask what?” she murmured before yawning.

 

“Poor tired kitten. I didn’t ask you to marry me.”

 

“Urmf.”

 

“What was that?”

 

“Didn’t you just ask me to marry you? I said yes. Now let’s go to sleep.” She pushed her face against him so that her nose was brushing the base of his throat.

 

Spike smiled. So much for down on one knee, or a diamond ring in a champagne glass. Exhausted post coital muttering would do.

 

Only… oh bloody hell.

 

“Buffy!” He shook her shoulder. “Buffy! Wake up!”

 

Her eyes snapped open and she sat halfway up. “Is there an apocalypse? Because that’s not funny, it’s my wedding day!”

 

“No, luv…” He slid to the floor, gently pulling Buffy so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed and kneeling before her. They were naked, but that couldn’t be helped, and maybe this was best done with them as nature intended. His demon features emerged with a soft crunch. Buffy didn’t flinch or look away. She brought one hand up to gently run over the ridges of his brow.

 

“Spike?”

 

He caught her hand and held it between his. “Buffy.” He had to pause as emotion overwhelmed him. “Buffy, will you be my mate? Will you let me claim you? I know I’m far from perfect, but I’m going to try to do my best to be there for you, be what you need. From now until forever, will you be mine?”

 

Buffy’s eyes searched his face. The words wanted to pour out of him. Words of love, of devotion, but he bit them back. He was naked before her, much more than just physically.

 

“William…” She took a deep breath. “William, I am yours from now until forever.” He started to stand but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “And you? William Pratt, Spike, will you be my mate? Will you let me claim you? Just in case you didn’t know I can be a total bitch sometimes, and I usually don’t know my own mind until it’s too late. And I own way too many shoes…but I love you. From now until forever, will you be mine?”

 

“Buffy, I’m yours. Always have been.” He laid his head in her lap and she stroked his hair. For long moments they stayed that way. Spike let his human mask slip back into place. His head was turned towards the direction of her closet. From which was spilling quite a few pairs of shoes. Pumps, sneakers, boots. She hadn’t been kidding. “Bess,” he whispered.

 

“Yes.”

 

“How many pairs of shoes are we talking about?”

 

“Hey!” she said brightly. “I think it’s time to go to sleep. More talking tomorrow.”

 

****

 

Giles was quite sure that deep inside, his younger self was laughing at him. Somehow he’d ended up being the event coordinator for the marriage of his Slayer to one William the Bloody. Well, William Pratt as he’d been informed earlier. He supposed it was a relief he wasn’t going to have to refer to Buffy as Mrs. The Bloody any time soon, though the irony of the name was not lost on him. He was looking forward to calling his Slayer ‘Mrs. Pratt’ every time she got on his nerves.

 

Buffy had woken up bright and early and come hurtling down the stairs, dragging a much sleepier vampire behind her. She’d deposited him on the couch and cornered Giles, asking about a location for the claiming ritual. Joyce had offered to stay at a hotel for the night and since Buffy had turned bright red and nearly lost the power of speech it’d been up to Giles to calmly explain to Joyce that due to the potentially violent nature of the ritual, it needed to be held somewhere sturdier than her house. The poor woman had looked a little pale and said something about checking on the florist.

 

Buffy had suggested a crypt, which would work. Spike had woken up long enough to start in on something about how her wedding night shouldn’t be taking place in a cemetery. Buffy had snapped back that it was what she wanted and Spike had wisely immediately capitulated. At least the fellow wasn’t a complete idiot. Giles had gotten directions from Buffy to the crypt just as Willow, Xander, Cordelia, and Oz had shown up. Kendra had been invited but had politely declined, though she had stated she’d take care of patrol.

 

Willow and Xander had received phone calls the night before from Buffy and had gotten over their initial shock. Xander looked lost but Willow had immediately snapped into maid-of-honor mode and started barking orders like a four-star general.

 

Jenny had shown up briefly, gone over the ritual with Spike and Buffy, and then commandeered Oz and the directions to the crypt.

 

Buffy had suggested the back porch as the place for the actual ceremony to happen, which seemed to carry a significance for her that he’d have to ask about later.

 

Giles had called Angel late the night before and a couple times during the day with no success. He’d even sent Xander over to pound on the vampire’s door at one point, but Angel either wasn’t there or hadn’t answered. Not for one second did Giles believe the vampire was truly in trouble. Things were going to be interesting when Angel showed back up and found his Grandchilde wedded and mated to the Slayer. He hoped for a front row seat to that debacle.

 

Thoughts about Angel disappeared rapidly from his brain as Joyce asked about cakes and Willow wanted to know if they needed tiki torches.

 

It wasn’t until nearly five o’clock in the afternoon that Giles started to believe that the whole thing might actually happen and not be a disaster.

 

****

 

Sunset was fast approaching and the Slayer found herself with her hair and makeup still not done.

 

“Maybe I should just leave my hair down?” Buffy asked, eyeing her reflection in the mirror.

 

“No,” Willow grunted around the bobby pins in her mouth.

 

“Why not?”

 

Willow took the pins out of her mouth and stuck the last one in place on Buffy’s scalp. “Because I’ve just spent thirty minutes putting it up.  It looks lovely, and I bet Spike is totally one of those guys who likes to run his hands through a girl’s hair and have it come out of its carefully arranged style.”

 

“We’re getting hitched, I’m not trying to seduce him. Not that I’d need carefully arranged hair to do that, either. Actually at this point I could probably sneeze and he’d tell me how adorable it was and then jump my bones.” Buffy rolled her eyes and Willow giggled.

 

The redhead sat down on the edge of Buffy’s bed, next to the carefully laid out wedding gown, and her giggles turned to a sigh. “What’s it like?” she asked.

 

“Uh, can you clarify that? Sneezing? Getting jumped by Spike? Because I’m not sure you’re in any way ready to hear about the second one.” Buffy had turned around on the vanity stool to face Willow and the bed, and was tapping her fuzzy slippers against the carpet.

 

“No, well…maybe yes. To the jumping, and not the sneezing. And not really the jumping part, more like sex in general, and not just sex. What’s it like being the center of someone’s world?” Willow pulled her knees up and rested her crossed arms on top, peeking at Buffy from behind them.

 

“Do you mean what is it like being in love with someone?”

 

“I guess so. Sometimes I think I might have warm fuzzies for Oz, but that’s all really, really new. If he asked me tomorrow if I wanted to be joined to him for all of eternity, I don’t think I’d say yes.”

 

“When it’s real, Willow, you’ll realize that you already are.” Buffy stood up and went to sit next to Willow, on the side away from the dress. It wasn’t what she would have picked for herself, but it had been her size and had only cost ninety bucks, which she knew because her mom had forgotten to remove the price tag. It should also probably be weirder that her mom had gone and picked out a wedding dress for her, but since the store was only open during daylight hours bringing Spike would have been impractical and leaving him was impossible. Buffy also trusted her mom and guessed the heavy white fabric would probably look better on her than on the bed.

 

Willow sighed again. “You guys are really cute together.”

 

“I’m glad you think so.”

 

Buffy’s wistful tone of voice didn’t escape her friend’s notice. “I guess future me wouldn’t have approved?”

 

“Not so much, no.” Buffy laid back on the bed, one hand behind her head to protect Willow’s work on her hair, and stared at the ceiling. “In fact you, Xander, and Giles probably would have tried to stake Spike before letting him claim me.”

 

“Even though you love him?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Future me sounds like a bitch.” Willow screwed up her face. “How can I keep from becoming like that?”

 

Buffy put a hand on her friend’s back. “I think we’re already a long way towards preventing any future bitchiness on everyone’s part.”

 

“I hope so, you better tell me if I mess up and start to go down that route, because I really don’t want to grow up to be Cordelia. I sort of have other life goals.”

 

Buffy snickered.

 

Willow laid back next to her friend. “So can you dish, a little, on the sex stuff?”

 

Buffy bit her lip. What the heck could she tell her friend that wouldn’t cause her to need therapy later? “Uh, what do you want to know?”

 

“It just seems so awkward. Like here we are, all naked, and we should fit our body parts together.”

 

Rolling over and propping herself up on one elbow Buffy couldn’t stop from giggling. “Willow, that has to seriously be the worst description of sex, ever.”

 

“Well, you’re the expert, you tell me.”

 

“Oh, fine, but I’m not going to start describing body parts or technique. Come back after you and Oz have done the deed and we’ll talk.” Buffy grinned as Willow blushed. Truthfully she was looking forward to it. There could be wine. She wanted Willow to be her friend, not just her comrade in arms, and not someone that felt like Tara needed to be a big secret. Lesbian details weren’t any weirder than demon details. Probably less so, because you weren’t left with the conundrum of whether or not you should mention ice was a major masturbatory aid because your boyfriend’s fingers were always so cold.

 

“Okay.” Willow pursed her lips. “But what about in general?”

 

Buffy giggled. “In general sex, with the right person, can be a lot of fun.”

 

“Gee, thanks, sex ed at school told me that.” Willow rolled her eyes. “What’s it feel like when he puts his…you know, in your…you know where? Is it like putting in a tampon?”

 

Buffy closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and thought vague things about Glory to keep herself from laughing. She didn’t want to hurt Willow’s feelings. “Not exactly, or at all. Erm, well, at first it’s sort of really nice to feel stretched and full. You can really tell it’s his dick and not a finger, or a tongue.” Willow’s eyes glazed over at the mention of ‘tongue’ and Buffy smirked. “And then you really want him to move it and brush up against all those happy places deep inside you, and with every stroke it’s like you’re sad he’s pulling back and then ecstatic when he’s pushing back in. I don’t know. That’s probably about the time being the Slayer starts to come into play.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I need things a lot rougher than most girls, I think, anyways. Honestly, I haven’t ever really talked about…sex with anybody as just a friend. So I don’t really know how it is for other girls.”

 

Willow’s face fell. “Not even me, before?”

 

Buffy shook her head.

 

“I…I’m sorry. It might be silly for me to apologize, but I must have been a horrible friend.”

 

“No, there was all kinds of other crap going on. Crap that I promise won’t repeat itself. I want to be a better friend, too.” Hope blossomed in Buffy’s chest. She really was doing this; it was really happening. She was essentially marrying Spike and her friends were still her friends, and would remain her friends tomorrow.

 

With a smile, Willow held her hand out with only her pinky finger extended.  Buffy hooked her own pinky around her friend’s.

 

“Best friends forever,” Willow said, her voice serious.

 

“Best friends forever.”

 

There was a knock at the door. “Buffy, time to put your dress on!” Joyce called. “Can I come in?”

 

“Yeah!” Buffy hollered back, sitting up. She caught Willow’s hand. “Oh my god, this is really happening!”  she squealed.

 

“It is!” Willow jumped to her feet, dragging Buffy along with her and into a hug. “And it’s going to be so awesome!”

 

****

 

Xander watched as the agitated vampire paced back and forth in Joyce's spare room. He wasn’t exactly sure how he’d gotten roped into Spike duty, but it was pretty obvious that the vampire couldn’t be left on his own. One minute Spike looked like he was blissed out on wacky brownies and the next he was nearly in tears, sure that Buffy was going to change her mind.

 

Currently Spike was on a low swing. He was scrounging through the pockets of his coat, random things hitting the floor.

 

“Here, got it.”

 

Xander walked over to him. “Got what?”

 

Spike turned, grabbed his wrist, and slapped a stake into his palm. “Make sure you put that in your suit pocket.”

 

“Uh, why? Are we expecting company?”

 

Spike’s eyes were pleading. “If Buffy…if she does a runner…leaves me standing there. You dust me. Right through the back. Can’t live without her.”

 

“That’d require me standing right behind you.” Xander sighed. “Wait, is this your very weird way of asking me to be your best man?”

 

The vampire lit up. “Would you be?”

 

“Sure, I guess so. Um…I’m sorry Angel’s missing in action. You should have family here, too.”

 

“Christ, that wanker would probably just throw a spanner in the works, anyway.” Spike grabbed him by the shoulders. “And you’ll more than do. In fact, I’ll be bloody pleased as punch to have you standing up with me.” The vampire’s brow wrinkled. “Family!” it was nearly a shout. He spun back to his coat, vamped out, and felt around the lining briefly before bringing part of the inside hem of the sleeve to his mouth. A second later the bumpies were gone and he was dropping something else into Xander’s hand.

 

Xander was astonished to find a set of wedding rings in his palm.

 

Spike rocked back on his heels. “They were my mum and da’s. I knew there was a reason I kept a hold of them.” A worried frown crossed the vampire’s face. “Do you think Buffy will like them?”

 

The man’s ring was a plain gold band, but the woman’s had a small emerald. “She’s going to be beside herself.”

 

“You really think so? They’re old, she might want something flashy and new instead of an antique.”

 

Xander quickly moved his hand away before Spike could snatch the rings back. “You’re an antique and she wants you. Trust me, when Buffy finds out where these came from she’s going to be stupid happy.”

 

Spike beamed.

 

Xander sighed. Here they went the other way again.

 

“I love her so much. She’s a bloody miracle. It took me more than a century, but I finally found the right girl.” The vampire was grinning, his eyes closed. He lifted a hand and put it over his heart. “Almost feels like it’s beating again. She makes me feel alive.”

 

“I know, I know.” Xander looked heavenward. “Come on Mr. Alive, let’s get you dressed, it’s nearly time to go downstairs and you’re going to have to redo your hair, you’ve put your fingers through it so many times you look like a refugee from a boy band.”

 

There’d been a duffle in Spike’s ancient car full of clothes that Joyce had spent part of last night washing and ironing. Lacking anything else the vampire was in his usual black jeans, a clean pair with no holes, and a black t-shirt. There’d been several nice button downs and they were all hanging wrinkle free in the closet.

 

Xander led the vampire over and watched as he stood there, pondering. After about five minutes Xander was beyond bored. “Just pick one. Buffy would be happy to marry you naked.”

 

“Now there’s an idea. Save some time that way.” Spike was smirking.

 

Xander groaned.

 

Spike went to grab one of the red ones but when his hand grasped the hanger a shirt that’d been caught between two of the other ones fluttered to the floor. Grumbling, Spike bent over and picked it up. He held it up and froze, his face blank. Xander couldn’t see anything special about the shirt. It was a silky black one with some kind of design, also black, on it.

 

“This one, it has to be this one,” Spike breathed. He quickly stripped off his t-shirt and tossed it into a corner. Almost reverently, the vampire ran his hands over the fabric.

 

“What’s so special about that one?” Xander asked. “And could you hurry up and put it on before I go blind from the glare?”

 

“What?” Spike looked down at himself.

 

“Seriously, I’ve seen fish bellies with more color.”

 

The vampire quickly put the shirt on and did up the buttons. He looked at Xander with troubled eyes. “Do you… do you think it bothers Buffy?”

 

Ah, the pendulum had swung back the other way.  “Spike-“

 

“Because I’m English, it’s not like I could really tan even before I was Sired.” The vampire was holding out the front of the shirt and was staring down at his chest.

 

Xander put his hand on Spike’s arm. “Buffy loves you. If you asked her she’d probably say something about marble statues, or greek gods… or… please interrupt me before this gets any more uncomfortable than it already is.”

 

Spike dropped the shirt and looked at Xander, his face serious. “Thank you, Xander. You’re a good kind of bloke. I see why Buffy thinks so highly of you.”

 

Xander blushed and shuffled his feet. “I should probably go look out the window. I don’t want to miss when the pig goes flying by.”

 

Spike patted his shoulder, chuckling.

                                     

****

 

Buffy stood at the top of the stairs. She was ready. Her white gown was perfect: the sweetheart bodice, the satiny skirt, the long sleeves. There wasn’t a veil, but that was fine, she was walking into this with her eyes open.

 

Giles was smiling at her, resting an arm on the banister at the bottom of the steps. She bunched up her skirt a little so she didn’t trip and walked down to him.

 

“Oh, my dear girl.” She smiled at him, and didn’t mention the wetness her Watcher wiped out of his eyes. He offered her his arm and she linked her elbow with his.

 

Giles walked her to the back porch. She had brief impression of her mom and Willow, who were also swiping tears from their eyes. Xander was wearing a goofy grin and standing next to…

 

Spike.

 

He was all she could focus on. The look on his face as she came to stand beside him in her wedding dress. The cool feel of his palm against her arm as Ms. Calendar loosely bound their hands together. His right, her left. They promised to love and cherish one another from that day until forever. There were rings that Xander pretended to have lost for ten seconds. The gold band felt right on her finger, like it was a piece of herself that’d been missing.

 

Spike took advantage when Jenny told him he could kiss his bride, and left her breathless.

 

There were congratulations and hugs from everyone, even Cordelia. Xander took a bazillion pictures.

 

At last Oz pulled them out of the fray and into his waiting van.

 

It was time. Forever was about to start.

 


	33. Together

I love your precious heart

            -INXS, “Never Tear Us Apart”

 

****

 

There were roses, candles, and soft blankets in a pile on the ground. Buffy smiled wistfully.  Jenny and Oz had been optimistic. Still, the fact that her friends had gone to the trouble to make a crypt seem romantic for her and Spike was almost more than she could process. There was even a basket with water, snacks, and a couple thermoses of blood. This was what acceptance felt like. Warm, soft, and faintly embarrassing.

 

Spike was bouncing on the balls of his feet as he wandered around the crypt. “This is the one I found you in after you’d had a bad time with your friends, yeah?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“It feels…comfortable.”

 

She smiled. “It was your home for years. There’s a lower level you cleaned up.”

 

“Huh. Fancy that.” He turned to face her, the sweep of his eyes up and down her body making her blush.  Smirking, he stalking towards her. “Seems a bit late for the blushing bride routine.” His fingers went to the buttons on his shirt, popping them one by one. Buffy felt almost intimidated, which really didn’t make sense. It was Spike and he was her husband. She knew him and his body very well. Only it was getting hot in the crypt and she was finding it a little hard to breathe. She felt a little silly until she noticed that his hands were shaking as he undid the last several buttons.

 

The big bad was nervous too. Well, that she could work with.

 

“I guess we’d better get a few hits in, get the demons riled up a bit.” Spike’s smile was gleeful.

 

Buffy was shocked. “I can’t hurt you.”

 

“What?” He looked confused.

 

“I wigged out thinking I’d grabbed your wrist too hard the other day. I can’t actually kick or punch you. I refuse to hurt you!”

 

Spike was toeing off his boots. “I wasn’t thinking to get bruised on my wedding night, just a little fun to get the juices flowing and wake the beasts up. Sparring, not real fighting.”

 

“If you insist.” She looked down at her dress. “I guess it’s good this wasn’t too expensive.”

“Nonsense. Let’s get that bit of flash off you. Turn around.” He made a swirling motion with his finger.

 

“I can’t fight you naked!”

 

“Sure you can.” He took off his own shirt and dropped it next to the basket before making the motion with his finger again. This time she complied. His clever fingers made short work of her dress’s fastenings. There was a pause and then she felt his fingers pulling the pins from her hair. They made little plinks as they hit the floor.

 

Spike groaned as he sank his hands into her hair, loosening it to hang freely around her face.  Score one for Willow. The vampire leaned close, resting his face against the back of her neck.

 

“You keeping your jeans on?” She asked. She let the dress fall to pool around her feet and kicked off her pumps.

 

“Yeah, wouldn’t be fair if my bits and pieces were distracting you.”

 

Buffy giggled and took a step away from him, out of the heavy fabric of her dress. “I still don’t know, Spike, maybe this is a bad idea.”

 

“Bess, it’ll-” He stumbled back as she spun and launched a punch at his head.  With a startled growl he dodged that one and the next and then it was on. Fists and feet flew as they ranged back and forth across the crypt.

 

Spike had been right, this was fun. She was grinning and enjoying the view of his muscles working under the flawless skin of his torso. When she nearly caught him for the third time with an easily blocked jab she figured out what was going on: Spike was getting distracted by her bits and pieces.

 

Paying a little more attention to his eyes it became clear he was having trouble keeping his gaze off the way her breasts bounced as she fought. She started trying to get inside his reach and focused on ways she could brush up against him.

 

Spike’s eyes became hooded and some of his counters turned into excuses to run his hands over her body. Eventually he grew complacent and overreached in an attempt to get a hand on her ass. Buffy caught him hard with a roundhouse kick and he vamped out. Yellow eyes collided with hers and the intensity of his gaze left her breathless.

 

The fighting became more serious, the blows harder. Her arousal didn’t dissipate as he snarled at her around his fangs. She only wanted him more.

 

Panting, she launched a fast volley of kicks and punches designed to push him back on his heels and give her the advantage. It appeared to work and she stepped in close to him to press the attack.

 

As soon as she did, Buffy realized she’d made a mistake. Spike was anything but off balance.

 

The air left her lungs all at once as he pinned her against one of the stone sarcophagi. Roughly, he pushed her down with a clawed hand on the back of her head. Her breasts were pressed flat against the rough lid. There was the noise of him popping open his fly and pushing his jeans to the ground.

 

The air around her became charged and heat pooled low in her belly. The vampire at her back was growling low in his chest. Abruptly, his hand left her head. She barely had time to suck in a breath before Spike slammed his cock inside her. His claws dug into her hips, yanking her back against him as he thrust into her body.

 

It took a few minutes for her lust addled brain to recognize that the screwing was a battle for dominance. Buffy started to fight back against Spike’s relentless assault. Her hips bucked and circled while her inner muscles grabbed and squeezed at his shaft. The grunts and yowls coming from her throat were less than human, but they matched those that her vampire was making. God, she was going to come and she had no idea if that meant that she was winning or losing.

 

The walls of her vagina were clamping down tight and her thighs were starting to shake. Only Spike beat her. With a ragged moan he came. His cock stilled except for a faint pulse as he spurted his seed into her. Then he pulled out and even that sensation was gone.

 

She was pissed. With an effort she pushed herself upright and snapped her elbow back, catching him in the stomach.  There was fire in her eyes as she whirled to face him. Spike was still in his demon face and was snarling at her. Bracing her feet, she lunged, feinting high and then going low to knock his feet out from under him. He landed hard on his back, but the fall was softened by several of the blankets that’d been left for them.

 

With a hiss Buffy slammed her hands into his shoulders. She leveled an angry stare at him and his lips lifted in a sneer. The bastard knew just what he’d done. She’d wipe that look off his face. Lightning fast she removed her hands and straddled his head, knees on either side of his ears and her feet tucked over his arms. 

 

Roughly she fisted his hair and pulled his face into her crotch. “Lick,” she told him, her voice Slayer cold.  Spike eagerly complied, his cool tongue dragging through her folds. He stabbed it up inside her pussy, lapping noisy at the mixture of her cream and his come.  Her fist in his hair had loosened and she was now weakly petting his tangled, bright blond curls. Beneath her he shifted and his lips closed around her clit. He sucked at her swollen flesh, tapped the tip of his tongue against it, and finally barely biting down on it with his fangs. With a strangled cry she came, undulating against his face.

 

Spike chuckled, the sound vibrating against her sex. He hadn’t stopped using his tongue on her. She’d barely come down from her first orgasm when he sent her over the edge again. Panting, her legs quivering, she shoved herself down his lean body until her soaked pussy was hovering over his cock. Buffy had been planning to impale herself on him and ride him into the ground, but Spike’s vampire features were melting away.

 

Suddenly she no longer wanted hard and fast. Nearly falling on her face she laid down beside him on the quilt. He propped himself up on his side and leaned forward to kiss her. His lips were soft and the kiss undemanding. Gently, his hand brushed up and down her side. Her fingers roamed over his chest. She splayed a hand briefly over his unbeating heart before trailing the tips of her nails down to circle his navel and then up over his hip.

 

Her emotions were a maelstrom of love and desire, along with the fear of losing him to dust again, and a tiny fragment of jealousy that wanted to never share any of this with anyone. He was all hers. His stupid hair was hers, and the hollow beneath his cheekbones, the full lower lip that she was currently sucking on, and each bump and indentation of his spine.

Spike shifted back a fraction from her. “Penny for your thoughts?”

 

“I was just thinking that every last bit of you is mine.”

 

He noisily sucked in a breath and his eyes became hooded. “Too right I’m all yours. Let’s make it official, yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” She leaned back into him and his lips covered hers once more. He’d been palming her breast, but with a last tweak to the nipple he moved his hand in order to grasp her thigh and bring her leg up and over his hip. His leg went between hers and with a little grunt he slid his hard cock inside her. With his hand on her ass he kept her from moving. The sensation of completion as he stretched her was awe-inspiring.

 

“Heaven,” she whispered as she pulsed her muscles around him, glorying in the feeling of finally being exactly where she was supposed to.

 

He started rocking his hips, a gentle motion that had him sliding in and out only a couple inches each time. It was perfect. Buffy rolled her own pelvis, meeting him with every stroke. When she needed air she leaned back, looking between their bodies to watch their joining. She reached down, wrapping a curl of his dark pubic hair around her knuckle for a second, then letting go to trace a fingertip across the thick base of his cock. Stretching a little she was able to caress his testicles where they lay against his leg. _Mine_ was the only thought echoing in her head, a possessive feeling growing stronger and stronger.

 

Buffy brought her hand up to rest on his chest. “Can you feel it?”

 

“Mine,” he said. His eye blazed as they bored into hers. He was moving his hips harder now, starting to demand her pleasure. Under the calf of the leg she had wrapped around him the muscles of his ass were clenching tight with each thrust. She licked a finger and started rubbing her clit in fast little circles, but it wasn’t enough.

 

“Spike, please,” she begged.

 

He pushed himself up on his elbow and brought his face to her neck. He nuzzled her flesh and ran his tongue over the fast drum of her pulse.

 

“Yes!” she said, when he hesitated. She felt his face shift into that of the demon and there was a sharp, bright pain as his fangs pierced her throat. Pleasure ripped through her and she was shattered and remade anew as she came.

 

He let go of her throat and growled into her ear: “Mine!”

 

“Yours!” she replied hoarsely, her bone and muscles turning to jelly as she sagged against him. It was a good thing there wasn’t a bunch of flowery language attached to this, she didn’t think she’d be able to manage saying anything more.

 

Spike was still moving inside of her. He needed her. The little noises he was making in the back of his throat sounded pained. She brought her mouth to the pale column of his neck and inhaled his scent. Not having fangs had seemed like a huge problem to her, but as she bit into his skin it seemed to almost part of its own accord and the blood to leap into her mouth. It wasn’t icky, like she’d been expecting. It tasted of him and everything that together made him uniquely Spike. Under her tongue and teeth he was howling his pleasure as he came, his hips frantically pumping.

 

Buffy let go. “Mine!”

 

“Yours,” he sobbed. “Always yours.”

 

They lay intertwined for long moments, panting. Eventually Spike rolled over on his back, his softened cock sliding out of her. Only, oh.

 

“Whoa.” Buffy’s eyes went wide.

 

Spike had the same disbelieving look on his face. “Whoa is right.”

 

When he’d moved she’d felt both the sensation of emptiness as his cock had left her, along with the trickle of fluid down her leg, but also the feeling of the loss of her heat and the slight stretch as her muscles had clung to him for a second. 

 

They stared at each other, gaping, and then the emotions hit.

 

Buffy gasped. His love for her rushed across the claim. It was strong, fierce, unconditional, unending. Undeniable.  She drank it in and sent her own feelings for him right back at him.

 

The look of awe on his face nearly undid her. Tears feel unheeded from her eyes. She knew, despite all her words and actions, that he had doubted until right this instant that what she felt was anything like the love he had for her. Now she could be sure that he’d never doubt her love again.

 

Buffy lay down and pulled him to her so that his head was pillowed on her breast as he gazed up into her face.

 

The memories started next, first a trickle, but quickly it became a flood. The twenty-six years of his human existence, which he was embarrassed for her to see. Though she didn’t know why. He was so darned cute and it pained her that she couldn’t wrap him up and protect him.

 

Only, god, she couldn’t hide that she was glad Drusilla had made him a vampire. Otherwise her life would have been very different.

 

She squealed out loud when she realized her wedding band had once been his mother’s. She saw Dru turn him then the rest was, up until Sunnydale, rather heavily edited. The worst of the vampiric evil and any sex was missing, which was just fine by her. The years flowed one after the other like water and she was surprised how quickly it all went. Until he’d come to Sunnydale to find the Slayer. Buffy could feel his shock as she grabbed his wrist in the Bronze, and the heady lust that’d both woken him up from the fugue his life had become and confused him beyond all rational thinking.

 

When Buffy’s memories had started to tumble into him she became frightened. Would he see the bad along with the good? There were ice rinks and birthday sleepovers that made him smile. Then she’d been called.

 

Things played out how she originally remembered them going. The attack on the school ending in her near death instead of an orgasm, which made Spike grumpy.

 

As her past flowed by she could tell that Spike wasn’t exactly remembering what he was seeing, but only how he’d felt. The weirdness of a Slayer with friends and family. A flash of anger at the wheelchair, warmth when they made their truce.

 

When they reached the fight in the sunlight after he’d found the ring of Amara he halted the express train of her memories. He was disgusted with how he’d taunted her.

 

 _I’m sorry._ The words were as clear as a bell in her mind.

 

_Holy hell! Hey, we can do the tele-phony thing, cool!_

 

Spike waggled his eyebrows at her. _Telepathy, and it means_ _I can talk dirty to you right in front of your Watcher and the git will never know what a bad girl his Slayer is._

 

She rolled her eyes at him. _Anyway, why are you sorry?_

 

 _I shouldn’t have said those things to you_.

 

Buffy shrugged. _We were enemies, so no biggie._

 

_I think I was jealous._

_That sounds like a now feeling._

 

 _No, it was definitely then. I guess subconsciously I wanted to be the one poking you_.  

 

 _What?_ She shoved at his chest _. Worst pick-up line ever_. She showed him her memory of the treasure room. _We really should find all that ASAP. It’d pay for everything for a long, long time._

 

_Can I have the Gem?_

_If you want it, I guess._

 

The memories starting moving again. Buffy shrank from him as all the times she had belittled him, hurt him, cut him down with words or fists, ignored him, or denied his feelings, flooded from her mind to his. Seeing it all made bare made her feel like a monster. She’d been terrible to him and yet he’d still been willing to die for her. It’s better now, she told herself. A mantra to carry her through. It’s better now…it’s better now…

 

For the most part Spike barely seemed to file things away for later examination, she felt no censure from him, no judgement, mostly just wry humor.

 

Until they reached that night in the bathroom. Spike was on his feet and backing away from her before she could blink.

 

“Buffy.” His voice was raw and hoarse. “Oh, Bess, how could I have done that to you? How can you still love me?”

 

“It was a bad thing that happened. That’s all.”

 

He fell to his knees. “It didn’t just happen. I was going to…I thought…oh, god.” She took a step towards him and he held his hand out. “No. Don’t. I shouldn’t be in the same room as you. Buffy. God. No wonder you slammed the door in my face.”

 

“What? Spike, you’re not making sense.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re a vampire. For most of the time since you were turned you didn’t have a soul. You were evil. You did evil things. You did an evil thing to me. If that shocked me because I’d forgotten the whole evil thing, well, that was my mistake.” Buffy looked down. Spike was falling apart; she could feel the self-loathing that was overwhelming him. She forced her point of view of the moments right after she’d pushed him off her through the connection. How she had loved and forgave him even as she’d let her fear and anger rule her tongue.

 

“Stop, please.” He dropped his head into his hands. She didn’t. She brought up her hitting him again and again, including the time in the alley when he’d just taken it. “That doesn’t excuse what I did, or make it okay,” he mumbled into his palms.

 

“No, it doesn’t.” Buffy walked over to him and pulled his hands gently away from his face. “But I can’t forgive myself for doing that, even if you do. All I can do is swear to myself I’ll never do it again. I’m assuming you’ve done the same.” He nodded. “Stand up.” She offered him a hand and she helped him to his feet. “Spike, I don’t want to live in that moment in the bathroom. It was terrible, but it’s over and done.”

 

She led him by the hand back to their nest of blankets and laid down, pulling him down beside her. With a sigh she rested her head on his shoulder. “I really don’t want to live in the past, but I can’t seem to leave this one.”

 

The crypt disappeared and she stood with Spike, watching another version of him and her in a dark cavern on the hellmouth. Light was erupting from the amulet on the other Spike’s chest and the other her linked hands with him.

 

“I love you,” the other Buffy said.

 

“No you don’t, but thanks for saying it.” Other Spike looked like he was already seeing the world beyond this one.

 

The scene wavered and abruptly disappeared as Buffy found herself yanked hard against Spike’s body in the candlelit crypt. Love poured through the claim.

 

“Didn’t doubt it,” he murmured against the top of her head. She could feel it. The claim brought her the peace she’d been denied. He’d believed her.

 

“Oh!” was all she managed to get out.

 

“I’m sorry I don’t quite have my own memories, just your borrowed ones, but I think in that moment I wanted you to live. I know you believe you abandoned me, but in order for me to see it through, I needed you to leave. I wouldn’t have meant to hurt you.”

 

“I’m glad you don’t remember burning to death.” She pressed her hand against the smooth expanse of his back.

 

“You and me both.” He wrapped the quilt tightly around them as if to shield them from the rest of the world. “Anything else I should know?”

 

Their surroundings wavered again and they were standing on a hill overlooking…

 

Oh god. No. Not here. Not with him. The Sunnydale crater gaped wide before them. The headlights of a parked car cutting into the darkness of the night. Buffy watched herself, skinny and worn looking, skirt the edge of the drop off.

 

“Christ, is that you, luv?” Spike grasped her hand tightly. “You look like hell.” He took a deep breath as her remembered emotions from that night tumbled through her. “Buffy, no. No! I’ve never been wor-”

 

“Don’t say it,” she ground out. Buffy couldn’t look away from herself.  The thin figure hopped down to the lower ledge and walked slowly towards the iron girder that stuck out into the blackness.  “And that.” She swallowed. “That’s not me anymore. I don’t know her. She was empty and I am full. She was lonely and I have more friends and family than I know what to do with. She thought she was lost, but I know I am found. She believed love had forsaken her, but now I know it was waiting for me, I just had to figure out where to look. She dreams of death and I live in every second of every day.”

 

Spike had turned away from the sad version of her that was creeping out onto the girder. His eyes were warm and full of love.  “I know.” He brushed her hair out of her face before pulling her against him, his chin resting on top of her head.  The Buffy below them was determinedly putting one foot in front of the other as she balanced on the narrow metal beam. “So why did you come back to Sunnydale to end your life?”

 

“Because it’s where what’s left of you is.” She took a deep breath. “I wanted to be with you. As my body…decayed, it would mingle with your ashes and we would finally be together.”

 

“Bloody hell, Bess.” Spike’s arms tightened around her. The other Buffy had reached the end of the girder. She stood, turned around, and held her arms wide with a stake clasped tight in her fist. Closing her eyes, the thin figure smiled, mouthed something, and plunged the stake into her breast. Spike shuddered as the other Buffy’s body stiffed and fell backwards into the darkness. She knew he could sense her remembered emotions, all the despair and hopelessness. It seemed like a life time ago.

 

“This isn’t quite right,” Buffy said, looking around. “Angel was here, he tried to stop me. Why wouldn’t he be in my memory?”

 

Spike shrugged. “Perhaps I just don’t want to see the pathetic wanker.”

 

“Yeah, maybe.” Things still felt a little off to her. Angel had been here. He had to have been or she wouldn’t have ended up in the hospital. She frowned, it was weird. There also hadn’t been the thud of her body hitting whatever it had. Though she supposed she wouldn’t actually remember that part. The whole thing was a little strange.

 

Around them the memory dissolved and the reality of the crypt returned. The reality of her husband’s body squished comfortingly up against hers, his fingers stroking her hair. “Can we be done with all the badness for a little while?” she asked timidly.

 

“I can think of much better things to do than relive past uglies,” Spike’s voice soothed her. Buffy looped an arm around his neck and brought his mouth to hers. She swam into their connection until she lost all sense of them being two separate creatures.

 

A hesitant knock and the sound of the crypt door creaking open forced her back into her own head. Willow peeked around the heavy stone door. “Is it safe to come in?” she asked hesitantly.  The real world making an appearance made Buffy cringe.

 

“We’re covered, Red,” Spike called.

 

Willow reluctantly walked in. “I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s not too long before dawn and there was this bug-guy that tried to crash the party after you guys left last night and Giles wanted to talk to you about it this morning, Buffy.” Even though blankets shielded almost everything but their heads and shoulders from her eyes, Willow was still looking at the ceiling.

 

_I hope they killed him._

 

“Buffy wants to know if you killed him.” Spike raised an eyebrow at her.

 

Buffy’s cheeks reddened. _Oops, sorry._ He planted a kiss on her shoulder.

 

“Uh, yeah, we did. It was messy.”

 

“Awesome! He was one of the Taraka assassins.” Buffy’s nose wrinkled. “We’ll be there shortly, okay Willow?”

 

“Yeah, okay.” Her friend turned and practically ran out of the crypt, closing the door behind her.

 

“Y’know,” Buffy groused. “She really could have walked in on something much more awkward than us being cuddly under a blanket. There was no reason for her to be so weird about it.”

 

“Wasn’t that.” He ran a finger down her cheek. “She’s magic sensitive and there’s a whole lot of it swirling in here right now and none of it would have felt welcoming to her.”

 

“Ah.” Buffy eyed the air like she’d suddenly be able to see the waves of magic the claiming had set off.  Spike started to get up but she stopped him with a hand on his back. “Hey, I have an uncomfortable question.”

 

“Shoot, but let me get a smoke while you do.”

 

Buffy nodded then promptly forgot what she was going to ask as she watched her mate walk over to the basket of stuff left by Jenny for them and bend over to grab the pack of cigarettes and lighter that was in there.

 

“Question?” he prompted, smirking around the cigarette he was lighting.

 

“Oh, right. Well, I know with the claim I won’t age, but what happens if I die?”

 

“Excuse me?” he coughed on the lungful of smoke he’d just inhaled.

 

“Like, if I die-“

 

“Don’t want to talk about you dying,” he bit out. She could feel the agitation and confusion roiling through him as he picked up his jeans from where they’d landed.

 

“Okay, fine. What happens to me if you die?”

 

He’d pulled his pants on and was doing up the button. “Bess, I don’t quite catch what you’re asking.” There was a hint of the scene they’d watched, her falling into blackness, that rolled through his mind, accompanied by naked dread. She was scaring him.

 

“The book said all kinds of life force join-y things. So if you dust will I just fall over dead? Does it take a day so I can wreak my vengeance or something?”

 

“Oh, luv.” He went to her, pulling her up and wrapping her in a hug. “Nothing like that. If I end up getting dusted you’d grieve, sure, but you already know that. The loss of a mate is painful, but there’s no I die, you die automatically clause. You could choose to go on. I think there’s even a ritual in your Watcher’s book that’d help you close off the rawest ends. But you would be okay, you’d get on. I…I have to believe you would.”

 

Buffy took a deep breath. “I’d try, but no promises. Don’t make me swear something I might not be able to keep. I wasn’t able to live without you before.”

 

“Ditto. No promises.” The image of her asking him to watch over Dawn filtered through from his mind. “None of that, either, understand? Not again.”

 

She smiled sadly. “No asking the impossible, check. We’re both just going to have to live forever.”  She tilted her head slightly and lightly bit the claim mark on his neck. The flash of lust echoed through her as well. He growled, lifting her up and perching her on the edge of one of the sarcophagi. He ground his erection against her and flooded the claim link with his need for her.

 

“Done talking?” he gasped as she undid his fly and stroked his freed cock.

 

“Yup. All done talking.”

 

They did make it back to Revello Drive before sunrise, but only by about thirty seconds.

 

****

 

Giles was staring at his decanter of Scotch. He really shouldn’t, but he’d been so good while Kendra had been staying at his place and now she was safely back in Jamaica where she belonged. Willow and Buffy were ensconced on his couch, researching the Bezoar demon that his Slayer was fairly certain was going to show up sooner rather than later. Well, at least Willow was researching. Buffy had a book open on her lap, but her eyes were glazed over, whether from boredom or because she was talking with her mate it was impossible for him to say. His gaze wondered back to the Scotch.

 

“Spike says to wait for him.”  Buffy was smiling, her eyes twinkling. That answered that question, she’d been lost inside her head having a conversation with her husband. He tried to rationalize that it’d only been a week since the claiming. The whole thing was still exciting and new. In a month or two they’d be less googly-eyed over each other. Buffy let out a poorly muffled gasp and her eyelids drooped to half-mast. Or maybe it’d take a few decades.

 

Giles sighed.

 

Without looking up from the dusty tome she was reading Willow used the slightly chewed pencil in her hand to poke Buffy’s shoulder. The Slayer blinked and frowned. Her eyes narrowed and she appeared to be contemplating retaliation when a loud knock on the front door made everyone jump.

 

He wasn’t expecting anyone and it wasn’t Spike, Xander and Oz back from their snack and blood run or Buffy would have already been out the door. Puzzled, he glanced at the girls. They both shrugged. The unknown individual knocked again.

 

With a caution born of having lived on a hellmouth for a while Giles stood up and opened the door just far enough to peek out. His brain couldn’t quite process what was standing on his doorstep. Angel, a very sheepish looking Angel. A brown leather dog collar was fastened around his throat and a leash led from it to the hand of a madly grinning dark-haired woman. For all the bizarreness of the situation there was no sense of danger.

 

Angel shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Is Buffy here?”

 

“Yes, yes she is.” Giles grinned. This was going to be fun.  “Mrs. Pratt!” he called. “It’s for you.”

 

“What the hell did I do now?” she grumbled as she come to stand next to him. Grabbing the door handle she yanked it open wide and gasped. “Angel!” She blinked, her eyes running down the length of the leash. “And Drusilla!”

 

Giles took a step back. “That’s Drusilla?” He had stakes stashed somewhere close, didn’t he? His eyes darted towards the table beside the door.

 

“Hi, Buffy!” Drusilla smiled brightly. She waved delightedly at the Slayer. “And hello, Spike!”

 

“Spike?” Angel craned his neck to see further into the apartment. Then his gaze snapped back to Buffy. “Mrs…Pratt?”

 

The grin that spread across the Slayer’s face was impish.

 

“Your invitation must have gotten lost in the mail. I’m so sorry. I’m pretty sure someone tried to call.” She shrugged. “We didn’t register anywhere, but we could still use a blender if you want to get us something.” She held her left hand up while wiggling her fingers. The porchlight caught the gold ring and made it shine. Angel’s eyes widened almost comically. The vampire’s eyes following every motion, Buffy used the same hand to casually swipe her hair away from the side of her neck where the claim mark was.

 

Angel sputtered, unable to form coherent words at the sight. He took a step forward, only for Drusilla to yank him up short with the leash.

 

“Bad puppy!” she said, then giggled. “I told you night and day were all happy together. Now play nice or no belly rubs later.”

 

Giles absolutely did not want to imagine belly rubs of any sort involving the two vampires and judging from the look on Buffy’s face, neither did she.

 

The Slayer tapped her fingertips against the door. “So, Angel you’re not Angelus, which is good, but Drusilla you…I can’t put my finger on it. Though nice touch with the leash.”

 

“She won’t trust me without it,” Angel muttered.

 

“He’s naughty!” Dru pulled Angel closer to her and ran her fingers through his hair, scratching briefly behind his ear. Angel’s expression hovered somewhere between extreme annoyance and fond amusement. Buffy cocked her head at them. Dru peered around, like she was looking for eavesdroppers, before leaning towards the Slayer. “I have my soul,” she whispered, looking deep into Buffy’s eyes.

 

The Slayer started and her gaze narrowed before it took on that slightly odd quality that Giles had quickly realized meant Spike and she were having a mental conversation.  Drusilla waited patiently. Finally, Buffy nodded. “We believe you. Invite them in Giles, Angel wouldn’t have come crawling to us for help if there wasn’t a serious problem.”

 

“Oh, Buffy.” Angel’s puppy-dog eyes were sad and pleading. “Something terrible is happening. Please, you have to help us.”

 

“Do come in, Angel and Drusilla,” Giles asked, trusting his Slayer’s judgement.

 

Buffy stepped back and gestured for them to enter with an impatient sweep of her arm. “Just so you know, Angel, inside my head Spike’s laughing.”


	34. Love Known

And we could dance

-Joy Division, “Transmission”

 

****

The door slammed shut with a satisfying bang. Buffy closed her eyes and counted to ten before turning to survey the room. Drusilla had sat on the couch next to an alarmed looking Willow. The vampress was staring in fascination at Willow’s hair and reached one long finger out to touch it. Angel had sat cross-legged on the floor at Drusilla’s feet and was staring at Buffy with poorly hidden resentment. Grinning broadly, Giles headed for his scotch.

Buffy crossed her arms. “Time to dish, Drusilla. And stop petting my friend.”

“But she’s so lovely, like her head’s on fire.” Dru ran her fingers though Willow’s hair once more before demurely settling her hand in her lap. The smile on Drusilla’s face faltered and her gaze looked faraway, but a second later her wide grin was back in place.

“Talk,” Buffy said again, firmly.

“Sweet Angel, you tell them.” Dru tugged just enough on the lead to slightly pull Angel to the side before letting the strap go slack again.

Angel’s face was impassive. “Fine. Dru said she had a way to both make her better and to…fix things. Which I should have known didn’t mean what I thought it did.”

“And what ever did you think it meant?” Giles had poured himself a mostly full glass of Scotch and took a long sip.

Angel sighed. “I thought it meant that Spike would return to Drusilla and Buffy and I would be together.”

“Mmm.” Buffy nodded. “Go on.”

“She has this book.”

Her mate spoke up inside her head. _The Du Lac book._ Spike was big time hooked into the connection, it was almost like he’d crawled completely into her head.

_You’re not driving, are you?_

_What? No, we took Oz’s van._

_Okay, good. I want you back with all your pieces intact._

_Oh, baby. I love it when you talk dirty to me_.

“Buffy, are you even listening to me?” Angel’s voice was tight.

“Not so much. What again?”

Angel’s eyes narrowed. “We did a ritual out of the book. I didn’t know until after what the ramifications would be.”

“Not a great way to do magic!” Willow piped up from the couch.

“Oh, it was only him that didn’t know. I had a perfectly good idea.” Drusilla smoothed her dress down over her knees. “I’m just tricky sometimes.”

“Do inform us of the ramifications, Angel.” Giles’ glass was empty and he was about to pour another round for himself.

“The ritual required us to pattern ourselves after another couple.” Angel rubbed he forehead with one hand. “Dru said at least one of the two had to be a blood relation.”

Buffy snorted. “Oh, oh my god. Spike’s your only living blood relation. You sort of…what? Carbon-copied us somehow?”

“Yes.” Dru fluttered her dark lashes. Her hand was entwined in Angel’s hair and Angel had shifted so he was leaning against her leg. “You provided the pattern. So I’m healthy and since you both have a soul, I got one too.”

“But you’re not human?”

Dru shook her head and pouted prettily. “No, maybe if there’d been some more magical power available to us, but we got what we got.” Drusilla tapped her forehead. “Up here seems a little quieter. That’s nice. Oh, and Angel’s soul is stuck to him now. The nasty curse has flown away.”

“Yeah.” Buffy rolled the vowels around in her mouth while she thought. Drusilla’s eyes went distant again. If Buffy had to guess, she’d say Drusilla was having a harder time with the new soul than the vampire was letting on. But that was Angel’s problem now, and she was already used to being crazy. Buffy didn’t know if being weird because of the soul would look all that much different on her.  

Inside her head Spike was experiencing a great deal more sympathy for Dru than she was. It was annoying. And, okay, she could admit it, a little jealousy inducing.

Spike gave her something that she only could describe as a mental hug. It was warm, fuzzy, and made her feel a lot better. _I think you won, pet_. _Ask them when._

Excellent question. “So when did this ritual take place?”

“Just a little over a week ago,” Angel answered tersely.

Giles shook the ice cubes in his glass, making them tinkle against the sides of the tumbler. “Angel, have you and Drusilla been…overly amorous since then?”

Drusilla looked smug.

Angel dropped his eyes to the floor. “That’s what we need help with,” he snapped.

“Temper, temper,” Drusilla chided, jerking on the leash.

“Please, Giles.” Angel took a deep breath and let it out. “Things are getting…”

“Hard?” Buffy snickered. Willow tossed a throw pillow at her head that she caught and hugged to her chest.

“Difficult. There has to be a solution.” Angel tapped his fingers against his knee.

“Best advice I have.” Buffy dropped the pillow and put her hand over her heart. “Is to stay away from my neighbor’s azaleas.”

Giles scoffed into his scotch.

Lines had appeared on Angel’s forehead as he tried to puzzle out her meaning.

“I’ll take pity on you, Angel.” Willow was smiling too, but her voice was soft. “We had to figure it out for Spike and Buffy.”

“Stay away from Giles’ tub, too.” Buffy grinned as Angel’s hands clenched into fists. He’d finally figured out what she was talking about.

“Buffy, quit it,” Willow admonished. “Angel, Drusilla, the problem is your souls are all tangled up. They can’t be disconnected, so you have to straighten the links out and make them nice and tidy. You have to claim each other.”

Drusilla smiled enigmatically, but Angel looked shell-shocked.  “How did you and Spike get your souls tangled up in the first place?” he wheezed.

“It’s a long story,” Buffy sighed.  Spike was doing the mental equivalent of a belly laugh _. Dru always did get what she wanted. But poor Peaches, even I couldn’t imagine spending forever connected to her mind. Though, I suppose she’s his creation and he can bloody well deal._

Angel looked up at her with pleading eyes. “Can we talk, Buffy? Just you and me?”

“Where? It’s a small apartment and you really can’t be very far from Drusilla for very long.”

Giles pointed towards the front of the apartment, nearly dropping his glass. “Outside the front door. Dru can stand near it if she needs to.”

“That’ll work.” Buffy sighed. She wanted to talk to Angel like she wanted a hole in the head. Spike wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea either.

Drusilla held out the leash to her. “He doesn’t bite unless I say it’s okay, but sometimes he can be a bad puppy. If he makes a mess rub his nose in it.”

“Uh, no thanks. Can you just unclip him?”

Willow giggled into her hand. “I don’t know, Buffy. Puppy might try to hump your leg.”

Angel opened and closed his mouth a few times while staring at the redhead.

“Good one Willow, but I’m sure ‘puppy’ can control himself for a few minutes.” Buffy headed towards the exit. Once Dru had removed the leash Angel stood and followed. “No chasing squirrels, okay?” Buffy said as she opened the door. Laughter followed them outside.

Angel looked heavenward and thumped the door closed behind him.

They stood facing each other. Buffy crossed her arms and glared at Angel, who appeared to be studying his shoes. “Look,” Buffy said. “Just spit it out, whatever it is you needed to say so badly.”

“Why Spike?”

Buffy’s fingers dug into her arm. No matter how much Angel deserved it, she wouldn’t punch him. It would be more effort than the jerk was worth. “Why not?”

Angel’s brown eyes snapped to hers. “Because…because it’s _Spike_.”

“Wow, deep argument. I’m glad we could have this talk.” She rolled her eyes. “Angel, there’s something you should know. I’m not sixteen. I’m twenty-three. I was sent back through time.”

“What?”

“Ask Giles for the details. Oh, and Spike, he came back with me. He’s missing his memories so it took us a while to work everything out, but we have years of history together. You?” She poked Angel in the chest. “Where I come from you turned into Angelus and then, once you were cursed again, abandoned me to go play hero somewhere else.”

“Angelus?” he croaked.

Buffy sighed. “Yeah. It was real fun.”

“Buffy, I…I…”

“Technically it wasn’t you, right? So no need to apologize. And it can’t happen now. That’s great.”

“What do we do?”

“We?”

“You and me, us. Damn it, Buffy, you were supposed to be mine.”

Buffy groaned.  “That’s why you drug me out here, isn’t it? To, what? Shame me? Make me feel bad that I didn’t sit primly on the pedestal you put me on and swoon and sigh over you while you did your manly destiny things? Are you pissy because Spike swooped in and peed—figuratively—” Buffy sniggered. Angel had looked quite alarmed. “All over your territory? It doesn’t work like that. I’m not a prize. I wasn’t yours to lose or Spike’s to win. I made a choice. I chose the person that supports me, loves me unconditionally, makes my heart sing. The one that fights beside me, that loves my friends and family and will take care of them no matter what. I chose the man who chose me over everything else.” Belatedly, she realized she was pushing the heel of her hand into the claim mark on her neck. Buffy took a deep breath. “Angel, there is no us. You’re going to claim Dru, and listen carefully to this-” She waited until he was looking directly into her eyes. “You’re going to take your slightly odd mate and move to L.A. Once there you’re going to look up this guy named Doyle. He has visions of people in trouble. Together you, Drusilla, and Doyle can make the world a better place, or whatever.”

Angel furrowed his brow, then slowly nodded. “I can see that. And you?”

“Me? That’s easy. My husband and I are going to hang around in Sunnydale and avert apocalypses and kill baddies, oh and enjoy the hell out of each other. Because while I know you and Spike are oil and water, the two of us rub along pretty well together.”

“So this is goodbye?” Angel hung his head.

She put a hand on his shoulder and tried to dredge up some of the old feelings she’d had for him. The well was dry. Friends might be out of the question, but distant acquaintances she could do. “We’ll still see each from time to time, send Christmas cards and the like.”

Angel nodded. With a sad smile he awkwardly leaned forward and gave her a hug that she reluctantly returned with one arm.

“Buffy, I-” Angel was torn from her and propelled backwards into Giles’ door with a loud thud.

Spike, vamped out and snarling, had his hand clamped tight around his Grandsire’s throat.  “You don’t touch her.” He tightened his claws until blood was trickling down Angel’s neck. “Mine!”

“Shh, baby. It’s okay, we were just saying our goodbyes.” Buffy ran a hand soothingly over her mate’s back.

“It’s not okay. I worked something out on the way over here. This berk sent the Order of Taraka after us to keep us busy while him and Dru were scheming. Tell her.” Spike loosened his hold just enough for Angel to speak.

“I’m sorry,” Angel squeaked out.

Buffy raked a hand through her hair. “Well that’s just wonderful. You nearly got a bunch of people killed that weren’t me. I’m so done here.”

“You never touch her again,” Spike growled at Angel, who mutely nodded his assent. Letting go of his Grandsire, Spike whirled and picked Buffy up. She squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck. Looking coyly at Angel, who was still slumped against the door, she nuzzled against Spike’s neck and lightly bit at her claim mark there.

Spike’s demon face melted away and his eyes rolled upward. She smirked at Angel, who looked almost ill.

“Come on, Minx,” Spike said, settling her securely in his arms. “It’s time we got you home.”

****

Why had she wanted to go back to school again? Oh right, she’d been bored and missed her friends. At least Angel and Drusilla had been packed off to Los Angeles. Both sporting new, shiny claim marks and a shared sense of the need for a redemptive journey. She wished them luck. Spike had growled something about Angel treating Dru right and then flipped the English version of the bird at the back of their car as they’d driven off.

Buffy tapped her foot and shifted on the hard wooden seat of the desk. It was hot. The teacher was boring. The hands on the clock appeared to be moving ten times slower than normal and Spike was sleeping.  Buffy was bored. She hated health class with a fiery passion. The only thing keeping her from skipping it was the knowledge that sooner or later there’d be eggs and a demon to deal with. Yay!

 _Demon?_ Spike sounded groggy, even through the claim.

_Not yet, go back to sleep._

_You have the best ideas, Bess_. Spike stretched but she didn’t think he was trying to go back to sleep. In fact, he seemed to be pulling at her through the claim.

She let herself slip into it so she could see through his eyes as well as her own. _What?_ Too late she noticed the mischievous slant to his thoughts. He’d drawn the sheets to the side and was gazing down his body to where his erect cock rested, thick and heavy, on his belly.

“Eep,” she sputtered. The girl in the desk next to her gave her a dirty look and shushed her. “Sorry,” Buffy whispered. Her body’s immediate Pavlovian response to his arousal left her simmering, with her pussy slick and clit swollen, and breathing through clenched teeth. Her nipples were pebbled and scraping against the cotton of her shirt.

Her mate knew exactly how affected she was and he was rather chuffed about it. _Wish you were here_. He rested one hand behind his head and ran the other slowly down his chest and over his flat stomach. He curled his fingers tight around his shaft and tugged. Buffy bit her lip because, holy…she could feel everything, and obviously Spike could sense the rising tide of lust in her body.

_Do you think, Slayer, that I can make you come while you’re sitting there with your little school chums?_

_What? Huh? No! Bad vampire!_

_Well, that’s a given_. He’d reached under the bed and dipped his fingers in the olive oil they’d pilfered from the kitchen.  As he lightly ran a hand up and down his hard-on Buffy found herself breathing in puffs through her nose.   _How should I touch myself, Bess? Firm and fast, just rub one out so you can get off and then go on about your day?_ He wrapped his hand securely around his cock. _Or…_ He loosened his grip slightly and swept his hand up and down in a leisurely fashion. _Maybe I’ll draw it out so you’re sweating and trembling in your chair, begging for me to shoot my load so that you can come too._

_Guh._

_Yeah, I think slow and steady sounds perfect. At least until right at the end._ He continued lazily stroking himself, occasionally dropping his hand down to roll his balls between his fingers. Buffy had nearly completely tuned her class out, feeling little besides the sensation of Spike’s fingers playing over his own flesh. _I like knowing just how much you’re enjoying this. What would you do if you were here?_

_I’d kneel beside you and suck the head of your cock into my mouth, sticking my tongue in the slit so I could taste the little pearl of fluid there. I love your flavor._

Buffy felt her mate’s mind short circuit.  He twisted his fingers around the deep-red head of his cock and nabbed a drop of pre-cum with his thumb. With a wicked grin he stuck his thumb in his mouth and sucked. Buffy was so caught up that she barely registered she’d stuck her own thumb into her mouth, unconsciously mimicking his actions. God, he did taste delicious.

His hand was around his cock again and he was jerking himself off in earnest now. The sensation was overwhelming. Her pussy was throbbing in time with the movement of his hand up and down his shaft. His hips were coming off the cot as he fucked his hand, but…oh…it felt almost like he was fucking her. She really was going to come when he did. Loudly…and in the middle of her classroom.

Buffy’s eyes flew open. She was sucking her thumb and wiggling around in her chair. Hopefully, any noises she’d made had been under her breath. Willow was looking at her questioningly, but everyone else seemed to still be staring at the chalkboard.

Abruptly Buffy stood up. “Um, sorry. I have to go to the bathroom. Uh…girl problems!” She took off walking as fast as she dared. Her mate hadn’t quit what he was doing and her coordination was dodgy.

_Girl problems?_

_Ack, horny vampire problems._

_You love those problems. Better hurry, I’m getting close._

Like she didn’t know. Luckily there was no one in the hallway bathroom. The door had barely closed behind her when she felt, almost as if they were her own, his balls draw up tighter against his body. She closed her eyes. He thrust a few more times into his fist and came with a roar, her name echoing in his mind. Buffy went to her knees, crying out as she orgasmed right along with him. The pleasure was a tidal wave. She could feel the rush as he ejaculated in hard spurts over his stomach and chest. When her vision returned she was on her hands and knees, panting, and Spike was breathing in time with her.

Her clit throbbed.

_Oh, god, Bess. Touch it!_

_I’m in the bathroom at my school. Like, literally anyone could walk in._

_Please!_

Her hand was already down the front of her pants. She shoved her fingers under the elastic waistband of her panties and found the hard bud of her clit. Everything inside her clenched up again as she made frantic circles with her fingers. She was whimpering and her hips were rocking.

It was less than a minute before the fireworks exploded again. Her body bucked as she groaned her mate’s name over and over. Spike was on his side in the cot, curled up into a ball, muttering: “Good girl. That’s my good girl.”

Slowly, Buffy managed to stand. Her hands were shaking as she did up the button of her jeans. Jelly knees somehow carried her to the sink and she splashed cold water on her face. _Wow._

 _I second that_. Spike rolled over onto his stomach and sighed deeply into the pillow. _I think I can go back to sleep now._

_Ugh! So not fair._

The bell rang and a second later Willow burst into the bathroom, carrying both her and Buffy’s backpacks. “Buffy! Are you okay?”

Buffy turned around from the sink and leaned against it, grinning sheepishly. “I’m just fine. Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“What happened?”

“Uh…”

Willow crossed her arms and put on her resolve face.

“Spike woke up.” Buffy bit her lip and started reading the graffiti on the wall next to Willow’s head.

Willow wrinkled her nose. “Spike! She’s at school. You can’t bug Buffy with…that while she’s supposed to be learning!”

_Tell her to keep it down. Some of us are trying to sleep._

Buffy rolled her eyes. “He says he’s sorry.”

_I did not!_

“I’m sure he did.” Willow looked skeptical. “Let’s go find Xander and get to Algebra before the tardy bell rings. We have knowledge to gain!”

Buffy shouldered her backpack and trailed after her friend into the busy hallway.

_Are you sure you have to go to class? We could-_

Buffy sent him a mental picture of her rolling her eyes. _Shut up, Spike…and I have a free period after math._

She could feel him smile against the pillow. _Don’t get started without me._

****

A full moon hung in the sky. Patrol had been eventful. Nothing like a little violence to put a spring in your step. Spike looked out of the corner of his eye at the woman beside him. He wasn’t going to laugh. No matter how silly his Bess looked stomping along, cursing under her breath, and covered in green demon goo. It was adorable, and cute, and…don’t laugh!

_I can feel you laughing, doofus, it doesn’t matter if it’s out loud or not._

Buffy’s annoyed tone did him in. He cracked up.

“Sorry…Sorry.” He had one hand braced on his stomach he was laughing so hard.

“No you’re not,” she grumbled.

“Did you kill that thing or give it a hand job? Because from where I was standing it looked like it jizzed all over you.”

“Ugh! Seriously!” His Slayer seemed right brassed off, but in a fun way. “I had to cut off its…thingy, to kill…whatever it was. It’s not my fault that it shot green goo everywhere. Though I guess if there’s anyone that should know about a demon ‘jizzing’ on me, it’d be you.”

He smirked. “You’re not still put out about me getting it in your eye, are you? That was an accident. Promise it won’t happen next time.”

“Oh, because there’s going to be a next time?” She was trying to look stern, but was doing a terrible job of it.

That was his girl all over. He leaned as close to her as he dared with all the green goo and used his best bedroom voice to purr: “The next time could be right here, right now. I’d only have to ask.”

_Fat chance._

But she shivered and he caught the faint pulse of lust through the claim before she tamped it down. He nearly crowed. She couldn’t fool him. Buffy was his girl, through and through.

At the house she stopped and huffed. “I can’t trail this stuff inside my mom’s house. Y’know, we really need to find somewhere else to live.” He expected her to bring up the crypt argument again, but instead Buffy looked down at her goo covered body. “Since it’s not really cold out I guess I can just hose myself down out here.”

Spike bounced on the balls of his feet. “Let me do it, please?”

“Fine.” She uncoiled the hose and handed him the sprayer. “Just remember you have to get all the goo off, not just the stuff on my boobs.” She turned the water on and stepped back, holding her arms out to the side.

With a grin he raised the nozzle, aimed, and hit her right in the tits. She gasped at the cold and shot him a dirty look, but it was bloody worth it because her t-shirt was plastered to her and her nips were standing up to attention. 

“Spike!” she admonished harshly, but the amusement flowing through the claim belied her tone.

With a wicked grin he started spraying her all over in earnest. She giggled and tried to get away from the water.

_You know I like a challenge, luv._

She darted this way and that around him and he was going to end up as soaked as she was, but it was glorious.

Her laughter died as she nearly bowled over a middle-aged man coming up the front walk.

“You should watch where you’re going young lady!” he snapped. Spike bristled at the tone. No one spoke to his mate like that. Buffy holding up a hand towards him was the only thing that kept him from pouncing on the twit and using his fists to teach him better manners. 

Buffy tilted her head to the side. “Ted.”

The man nodded. “You must be Buffy. I see Joyce has told you about me. She invited me over for a late dinner.”

Buffy simpered and nodded.  Something was definitely off about the bloke. Spike dropped the hose and went to stand next to his girl. _What’s wrong with this tosser?_

_Plenty. Feel anything weird about him?_

_Uh, he doesn’t seem to be alive. No heartbeat. No blood. What the hell?_

_Robot._

“So if you’re Buffy, you must be her…husband? You seem terribly young to be married.” Ted cast an appraising eye over his mate that nearly caused Spike to lose control of the demon.  He stepped in between them. Buffy fired a brief plan of attack through their connection. 

“Name’s Spike,” the vampire said, not offering his hand.

“That’s certainly an unusual name. Why don’t we go inside and-“

 _Now._ Buffy’s command whipped through his mind.

Spike side-stepped and Buffy tackled Ted, sending the unprepared robot sprawling. Gleefully, Spike grabbed the thing’s head and twisted. It wasn’t like snapping bone. He had to plant his feet, vamp out, and marshal all his strength before the head came away with a metallic grating noise.  A few wires sparked, but nothing else moved.

“What’s the meaning of this!” Joyce screeched as she flew out of the house.

Spike dropped the robot’s head next to its body and helped pull Buffy to her feet.

“It means you should probably let me screen your dates for you,” Buffy puffed as she caught her breath. Joyce was staring dumbfounded at the circuits and wires poking out of the robot’s neck. “He would have killed you, Mom.” Regret flowed to him through the claim, and he rubbed his mate’s arm to reassure her. “I should have said something earlier. Warned you. I guess I was hoping it was something I wouldn’t have to deal with.”

“Well, live and learn.” Joyce smiled ruefully. “And to think I was worried about your taste in men.”

“Hey!” Spike narrowed his eyes at her.

“Present company excluded, of course.” Joyce smiled at him. Buffy rolled her eyes. “Dear, why are you soaking wet?”

Buffy tapped the now lifeless body at their feet. “I had demon goo on me.” Joyce’s smile turned into a glare.

“What? It wasn’t me!” Spike protested. He wasn’t responsible for everything that got on her daughter.

“A likely story.” Joyce rubbed her temple with one hand. “So what do we do with the…remains?”

Buffy bent over and pulled Ted’s car keys from his pocket. “Stick him in the trunk for now. I don’t really know if he can just go in a landfill.”

“You two take care of that and I’ll call Mr. Giles and ask. Then come inside. I made fresh lemonade.” Joyce walked nonchalantly back towards the house.

“I really thought she’d be more upset.” Buffy frowned at her mom’s back.

Spike snorted. “Her time-traveling, superhero daughter married a vampire. She’s probably redefined strange several times since then.”

Buffy shrugged. “True.”

****

The music was thumping, a second pulse in her chest. Buffy stood on the empty balcony at the Bronze, watching the dancers gyrating below. At a table near the bar she could see an animated Ms. Calendar talking to Giles over steaming cups of coffee. Her Watcher looked vaguely horrified to find himself at the club. Buffy was proud of having convinced him to come. It hadn’t been easy, but endlessly whining about it being her birthday had finally worn him down. Her mom had flat out refused, but she had baked Buffy a yummy chocolate cake and while everyone had been munching, Joyce had surreptitiously handed Spike some kind of blood sauce for him to drench his piece in.

Buffy had even called Angel and invited both him and Drusilla, but their detective business was just starting to be take off and they’d had to ask for a raincheck. Which was fine by her. She was happy for Angel and she had a sneaking suspicion that he was happy too, not that he’d ever admit it. He had a destiny, lots of people to save, and a doting mate that understood him better than he understood himself. Drusilla knew when he needed to be flogged—Buffy suspected literally—for his past crimes and when he needed to be told he was a hero that had a higher purpose. It was sweet. Buffy had sent them a tasteful burgundy leather collar and leash set for Christmas. Drusilla had sent back a nice thank you note with an only slightly disturbing picture enclosed.

Below her, Willow was dancing with Oz, their arms wrapped around each other. Buffy didn’t know what would happen with those two. She’d pulled Oz aside and warned him about the werewolf stuff, but she didn’t know yet if she’d changed anything by doing so. And even if she’d prevented Oz from being bitten, the couple would still have to deal sooner or later with Willow realizing she liked girl-parts just as much as boy-parts. Buffy shrugged, that was a bridge to cross when it showed up.

Xander was either dancing or having a seizure with Cordy, it was hard to tell. Buffy giggled at her own joke and shook her head. Her husband was actually quite fond of Xander and the two of them had been bonding over mysterious guy things like cars, beer, and Cameron Diaz. Seeing her mate and her best male friend together and not at loggerheads made her all kinds of content.

Everything was good. It probably meant there was an apocalypse brewing, but she was sure it wouldn’t be anything they couldn’t handle together.

She groaned. Thinking that way was a good way to jinx herself.

_Everything okay up there, luv?_

Her eyes scanned the crowd. Quickly she picked him out of the throng of people. He was standing at the edge of the dancefloor, leaning up against a pillar. Spike was wearing his usual black on black ensemble. A splash of red from a button down was peeking out from under the leather of his duster.

 _Buffy?_ He lifted his face to look at her.

_I’m okay, just thinking, and maybe putting a few ghosts to bed._

He smiled faintly. _The moon was a ghostly galleon, tossed upon cloudy seas…_

She sighed happily. She never got tired of him reciting her poem in that rumbly voice of his.

 _Do you want me to come up there?_ He raised an eyebrow and an image of them tangled together on the exact spot she was standing flittered through the connection.

_Nah. Not right now, anyway._

_Then get your perky arse down here with everyone else where it belongs, birthday girl!_

_Alright, alright!_ Buffy rested her palms on the railing and closed her eyes. With barely any effort at all she let go of the last strings tying her to the past. The anger, the denial, the fear. The future was bright and exciting again. She was happy.

Her heart light, she skipped down the steps two at time and quickly pushed through the crowd to where Spike was waiting.

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled as her. He caught her wrist in one strong hand. “Let’s dance.” He led her onto the dancefloor, sweeping her into his arms and against his body.

Buffy clasped her arms around her vampire’s neck. She tilted her head back and looked up into his love-filled eyes. “Heaven,” she whispered.

“Ah, Bess, it’s only going to get better.” Spike kissed along her jaw until they were dancing cheek to cheek. “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.”

~FIN~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed :-)


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